Choices
by McAbbyAddict
Summary: When McGee is seriously injured, how will he and the team react? Casefic, rated T. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This one is a fairly large deviation from my usual McAbby fluff pieces, and as such I'm finding it challenging to write. I may not post on it regularly because of that.**

**It's going to get quite dark, just so you know. F.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters etc etc.**

One of the more irritating things about being an NCIS special agent, McGee decided, was the weekend duty. They got it about one weekend in 6, a weekend where they had to remain on standby. Criminals and training accidents didn't take weekends and holidays off, so neither did NCIS. This was one of their 'on duty' weekends. Most of it consisted of listening to DiNozzo's constant whining about not being able to make plans, with occasional death threats from Ziva; the rest involved following up any legitimate sounding tips from the hotline.

They'd received one such tip early this morning, concerning Marines dealing drugs in an abandoned storage facility just outside of Anacostia. The tip had been anonymous, and a little vague as to details, but it had sounded genuine enough for the team to mobilise.

Upon arriving at the storage facility, Gibbs had split them into two teams so they could cover more ground; he and Ziva had headed one way, sending McGee and Tony in the other direction. The facility was vast, each locker oversized compared to the majority of such places, with the storage spaces being arranged in blocks of ten.

As they rounded a corner and found another row of lockers stretching off into the distance, Tony commented

"This is going to take all day"

"Can we just get on with it, Tony?"

"We've been out here for hours, Probie. I'm starting to think there's nothing to find"

Silently McGee agreed with him; this one looked like a wild goose chase. He went over to the first locker in the new block, pulling open the access door and shining his flashlight inside. All they found inside was dust and cobwebs, same as every other locker they'd searched

"Right, that's it" Tony burst out "Let's split up, get this done faster." He turned and headed across the broad road that divided each block

"Tony, Gibbs said we have to stick together" McGee called to his disappearing back, receiving a dismissive wave in reply

McGee grumbled to himself about Tony's defection as he yanked on the door of yet another storage locker. The door seemed to be stuck somehow; he gave it another tug, feeling it move slightly. Another yank ought to do it. A noise caught his attention as he pulled on the door. He half turned, expecting it to be Tony returning. The world exploded

Half shielded by the door, the ball bearings and nails in the homemade claymore shredded into his side and arm, the force of the explosion knocking him to the ground. Through the excruciating, burning pain, he was dimly aware of Tony's yells, Gibbs and Ziva sprinting towards him before the agony became overwhelming. Everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Talk about an overwhelming response! I have an iphone, which I use to check my emails. It displays 50 emails to a page. Between alerts and reviews, I have more than one page of replies to the first chapter of this story. So thank you, very much. **

**If anyone reading this is interested in beta reading for me for this story, it would be greatly appreciated. I think I'm going to need it. F.**

They waited in silence.

Gibbs had been the first to arrive, riding with McGee in the ambulance, leaving Tony and Ziva to secure the scene until Balboa's hastily mobilised team could take over. By the time they'd arrived at Bethesda, Gibbs had been joined by Abby, Ducky and even Palmer. They sat close together in the hard plastic chairs of the surgical waiting room. It had been hours since McGee was rushed into emergency surgery.

Tony sat with head bowed, his eyes blank. Ziva watched him covertly, concerned about her partner. Once the ambulance had left the storage yard, he'd clammed up, becoming strangely quiet. He'd practically snatched the roll of crime scene tape from her, pacing out the cordon with fury evident in his every step. At her attempts to reassure him, he'd snapped out "This is my fault" and turned away. Apart from a terse explanation of the circumstances surrounding the bomb blast in response to Gibbs' questioning at the hospital, he hadn't spoken since.

Abby leaned against Gibbs' shoulder, unnaturally pale. She'd gotten up occasionally to pace as impatience overtook her, but soon returned to either Gibbs' or Ducky's side, taking comfort from the older men who constituted her father figures. Even Ducky had been reduced to silence by the oppressive atmosphere of nerves stretched to breaking point.

Abruptly the door opened; they all turned towards the newcomer, taking in the green surgical scrubs and the clipboard he carried

"Family of Timothy McGee?"

Gibbs answered

"That's us. How is he, doc?"

The doctor ignored him, asking "Is there an Abigail Scuito present?"

At Abby's nod, he went on

"You're listed as secondary next of kin, is that right?"

She nodded again "How is he? Is he going to be ok?"

"Agent McGee is stable, for the moment. I believe it was a bomb?" He looked around, seeing the team nod in confirmation "The shrapnel penetrated his left arm, shoulder and side. The side wounds are less serious; we've managed to stop the bleeding. Luckily none of the shrapnel hit any internal organs. The damage to his arm and shoulder is far more extensive however. We're concerned that we may not be able to save the arm. We've been unable to contact his primary next of kin; we need your permission to amputate should it become necessary"

...

_Amputate_

She looked around wildly, searching for someone that could help her. She couldn't make this decision by herself

"Gibbs" she pleaded "I can't do this. What about his family? Sarah?"

"Sarah's underage" he reminded her gently. He looked up at the doctor "Do you need permission now?"

"I'm afraid so"

Abby had sunk down into a chair, her face buried in her hands and her eyes wide with horror. Gibbs squatted in front of her, making her look at him

"Abs. You've gotta do this. Just do what you think he'd want"

"You know, most people adjust to the loss of a limb, learning to compensate with the other side" Palmer blundered in "He'd still be able to do most things normally"

He was quelled by a combination of Gibbs' stare and Abby's almost wail

"He's left-handed, Palmer"

Her words triggered a flood of memories. McGee in full computer mode, hands flying across the keyboard; helping her in the lab even when she didn't need it, because he liked to; driving the silver Porsche he was so proud of... all things that he'd lose along with his arm.

"No"

The word came out softly, too quiet to be heard clearly even in the silent room. She cleared her throat

"No, I don't give permission"

The doctor nodded, tucking the clipboard he held under his arm

Gibbs fixed the doctor with an icy blue stare

"Doc?"

"We'll do the best we can"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here we go with another chapter. Thank you for the massive amount of encouragement, everyone **

**Special thanks to Meiveva, for beta reading this for me **

**F.  
**

Gibbs kept a careful eye on Abby. After the doctor left, she'd dissolved into tears. It had taken the combined effort of Ducky and himself to calm her down. He knew it took a lot to make Abby cry; the stress of having to make that sort of decision about McGee had pushed her to breaking point. She needed something to occupy her, to stop her from dwelling on whether she'd made the right choice. As much as he hated to do it to her, he needed answers about the bomb that had damn near killed his youngest agent.

"Abs"

She raised her head, looking at him.

"Yeah Gibbs?"

"I need you to go back to the lab." Seeing her start to protest, he held up his hand. "We need to find out who planted that bomb". He could see the resistance on her face, torn between staying at the hospital and the search for the people that had put McGee there.

"I will call you as soon as we know anything" he told her.

"You promise, Gibbs?"

"I promise, Abs."

Gibbs looked at Ducky, a silent question in his eyes. The elderly Scotsman stood, picking up his hat and coat from the empty seat next to him.

"Come on, Abigail; I'll drive you."

...

Hours passed; it felt more like days before the door opened. The remaining team members looked up expectantly as the same doctor re-entered the waiting room. Gibbs stood, facing him squarely.

"You got news for us, Doc?"

The doctor nodded.

"I'm Doctor Richardson, I led the team that operated on Agent McGee" he introduced himself "He's stable now, and in recovery."

"His arm?"

Richardson scrubbed a tired hand across his head, dislodging the surgical cap

"It's hard to say at the moment. We've removed the damaged bone and tissue from the shoulder joint, but he'll need major reconstructive surgery before we'll know for sure. At this stage, he's not out of the woods yet. He may not recover the use of his arm even with the reconstructive surgery."

"How soon will he get that?" Tony asked, his voice slightly hoarse. Ziva glanced at him in surprise—thosewere the first words he'd said since they'd entered the waiting room—before turning her attention back to the doctor.

"We've scheduled the surgery for tomorrow morning. We'll have a better idea of his condition afterwards."

"How soon can we see him?" Gibbs asked.

"Once he's been moved out of recovery and into a room. I'll send someone to get you."

"Thanks, Doc"

Doctor Richardson nodded and left the room.

Gibbs pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, ignoring the warning signs posted on the walls of the waiting room, and hit the speed dial for Abby's lab.

"Gibbs! How's Timmy?"

"He's out of surgery"  
"Is he going to be ok?"

"They're not sure yet, Abs. He has to have another round of surgery in the morning before they can tell us anything."

There was silence at the other end of the phone.

"He'll be ok, Abby" Gibbs reassured her. "Do you have anything yet?"

She sounded slightly choked up as she answered.

"I tested the residue. The explosive was C4, Gibbs. I traced the chemical markers back to a batch that was bought by the Department of Defence."

"It was our C4?"

"I'm not done, Gibbs. The military keeps tabs on all the explosives it receives, but part of this particular batch was recorded as missing from Quantico two weeks ago. It was stolen, Gibbs."

Gibbs hung up the phone, turning to the remainder of his team.

"DiNozzo, stay here. Get in touch with McGee's family. Call me as soon as he wakes. David, you're with me."

...

Abby entered the room, trying to move as quietly as she could in her platform boots. She pulled up short when she realised that Tim wasn't alone in the room. A young woman sat by his bed, turning her head towards the door as it opened. Abby instantly recognised her from the evidence garage at NCIS. It was Sarah.

Torn between not wanting to intrude and wanting to see her best friend, she hovered indecisively in the doorway.

"Sorry" she half whispered "I didn't know anyone was with him."

"It's ok, come in" Sarah replied in a quiet voice.

Thankful for the permission, she quickly went to the bed, bending to gently kiss Tim's forehead, taking in the bandages that covered his left side. She knew she'd made the right choice, denying permission to amputate. Carefully, she smoothed the covers over his injured arm, smiling in relief. Logically, she knew he might still lose the use of his arm, but she refused to believe it while his arm was still part of him.

"I remember you. You're Abby, aren't you?" Sarah asked from behind her.

"Yeah, that's me" she replied, still watching Tim.

"Tim's told me a lot about you" Sarah continued.

"All good, I hope."

"He said that I should thank you; that you're the one that figured out that I'd been drugged when Jeff was killed."

Abby spun towards her

"He told you that?"

Sarah nodded.

"It's not me you should thank, Sarah. If he hadn't been so insistent that you'd been drugged, I may not have ever run that test" she turned back to the bed, unwilling to take her attention away from Tim. "You've got a really good big brother."

"You really care about him, don't you?"

"We all do" Abby replied "He's my best friend." Feeling tears spring to her eyes, she went to leave. Sarah's soft voice stopped her.

"Abby?"

"Yeah?" she asked, trying not to sniffle

"Thank you"

At Abby's quizzical look, Sarah continued.

"Thank you for caring enough not to let them take his arm"

Unable to speak for the lump in her throat, Abby nodded, closing the door gently behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter is centred on Tony; again, thank you for reviews, and to Meiveva for beta reading so quickly. F.**

Unable to sleep, Tony re-entered the darkened bullpen. After leaving the hospital, he and Ziva had been sent to Quantico to try and track down what had happened to the missing C4. It had been logged into inventory one night; on the next, there were two blocks missing. Tony and Ziva had been at the base until early evening, interviewing every person that had access to the munitions lockup, and coming away with a distinct feeling that there was something hinky going on. They'd brought away the lockup entry log and security tapes, intending to review them in the morning.

Now Tony inserted the DVD containing the footage into his computer, sending the feed to the plasma. He had to find out where the missing C4 had been before it ended up in the bomb that injured McGee. Maybe then the burning sensation in his gut would ease.

Intellectually, he knew that being with McGee wouldn't have lessened the younger agent's injuries. If he'd been covering McGee, he might have even been injured himself. That wasn't the point, he told himself. He was the senior field agent; he should have been the one checking the lockers. Instead he'd sent McGee in to do his job. What made it worse was that he hadn't been covering McGee, hadn't had his six. His irritation and impatience had gotten his teammate hurt; it might even cost him his arm. He owed Gibbs and McGee an explanation. Knowing that the Probie would probably try to make him feel better made him feel even worse.

He'd done enough damage; now all he could do to try and repair it was find whomever it was that had hurt his Probie.

...

He was still going through the security footage when the Boss arrived, carrying his usual cup of coffee. Gibbs gave him a knowing look.

"What time did you get in?"

"Around 4.30" he replied. "I wanted to check out the tapes."

"Uh-huh" Gibbs' reply was disbelieving.

"Any news on McGee?"

"Still unconscious. Surgery's set for 0900" Gibbs answered, heading up the stairs to the mezzanine.

The elevator dinged again and Ziva entered the bullpen, depositing her pack, badge and weapon at her desk before joining Tony at the plasma.

"Morning, Tony. Any luck?"

"Not yet."

He used the clicker to zoom in on the door of the lockup, hoping to get a better image of the people entering. The sound of Gibbs' voice broke his concentration.

"Ziva, take over from Tony. DiNozzo, you're with Abby. She needs your help reconstructing the blast."

"Boss-" Tony started to protest, knowing full well he couldn't add any information to Abby's simulation. Gibbs stared at him, making him submit.

"On it, Boss."

He headed for the elevator. Soon Abby would know he hadn't been covering McGee; he'd owe her an explanation too. McGee was her best friend, and it was Tony's fault he was hurt.

...

Abby was seated in front of her computer when he entered, focusing intensely on the screen. The lab was quiet, only the hum of machinery and the clicking of her mouse breaking the silence. It was obvious that she'd been crying recently, and judging from the circles under her eyes he doubted she'd slept.

"Hey Abs" he said softly, touching her on the shoulder. "Gibbs sent me down here to help with the blast reconstruction."

"Good, I need any information you can give me. Where was Tim standing?"

He leant over her shoulder, studying the 3D mock-up she'd produced. He pointed to the small access door.

"There."

"Ok, so the bomb went off when he opened the door?"

"Yeah."

"Did you see any of the mechanism at all? Any wires or pressure plates?"

"I didn't see it" he replied softly. She took it the way he thought she would; that he'd been there, but hadn't caught a glimpse of the bomb.

"Ok, so all his injuries are to his left side..." she faltered for a moment, remembering how grave those injuries were.

"He is going to be ok, right Tony?" she asked.

"He'll be fine, Abs. Probie's strong, and thanks to you he's still in one piece."

She nodded, resolutely turning back to their task.

"If all the injuries are on his left side, then that means he was turning away from the door when the bomb went off. Why was he turning?" she said to herself as she clicked the button that would start the simulator.

It clearly showed the spray of shrapnel through the little animated stick figure and beyond. She spun and looked at him.

"You weren't injured" she said accusingly. He shook his head mutely, knowing what was coming next.

"Tony, where were you?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This chapter is short, guys. As always, thanks for reading (and hopefully reviewing), and thanks to Meiveva for beta-reading  
**

**I'll post the next chapter tomorrow. F.  
**

Gibbs walked into the strangely quiet lab to find his senior agent red-faced, being glared at by a clearly angry Abby. At his entrance, the forensic scientist greeted him.

"Gibbs. Right where you're supposed to be." The last few words were pointedly addressed to DiNozzo.

"Am I missing something here?" Gibbs asked. After a last glare in DiNozzo's direction, Abby switched the feed to the plasma.

"I finished the blast reconstruction, Gibbs. McGee was turning away from the door as the bomb detonated; that's why all of his injuries are to one side. I suppose he got lucky; if something hadn't made him turn, the shrapnel would have hit him right in the chest."

"So what made him turn away from the locker?"

Abby didn't reply; instead she activated the computer model. Gibbs watched in growing anger as the simulated shrapnel passed through the spot where Tony should have been.

"Run it again." His voice was cold. After the second run through, it was even clearer. If DiNozzo had been covering McGee, he should have received at least minor wounds. Keeping his voice icy calm, he addressed the shame-faced agent.

"DiNozzo. Conference room, now."

...

Tony sat at the conference room table, his head bowed while he waited for Gibbs. He'd known this was coming, but he really didn't have an explanation, and he knew Gibbs would be expecting a good one. Wanting to get the job done faster was never an excuse for breaking protocol. He knew that in this case his presence or absence wouldn't have affected the bomb being triggered, but what if it hadn't been a bomb? What if it he'd sent McGee alone into the presence of an armed Marine? They'd been sent to the storage yard in search of Marines dealing drugs; if McGee had stumbled across them, Tony's backup could have meant the difference between life and death. That was the whole point of them working in pairs: One could always cover the other.

He looked up in trepidation as the door opened. Gibbs was eerily calm as he leant over the conference table until his face was nearly level with Tony's.

"What in the hell happened out there yesterday?" Gibbs' voice was quiet, menacing.

"I-I screwed up, Boss" Tony admitted.

"Ya think, DiNozzo!" Tony did his best not to flinch away at the anger and scorn in those three words. "You sent a teammate—your partner— into a potentially dangerous situation without back up! What were you thinking?"

Tony searched frantically for a reasonable explanation other than his own impatience. Finding none, he settled for the simple.

"Won't happen again, Boss."

"You're damn right it won't! From now on you are banned from entering the field. Is that clear, DiNozzo?"

"Yes, Boss." Tony's reply was muted; he deserved this, he knew. As Gibbs went to leave the room, a question occurred to him.

"How long for, Boss?"

"Until I say so, DiNozzo" came the curt answer. Gibbs exited, closing the door behind him with a distinct snap.


	6. Chapter 6

A combination of fear, Caf-Pow and rage fuelled Abby as she reconstructed the bomb fragments. She knew that other agents and staff at NCIS had the occasional problem with Tony. She'd always defended him when they'd said anything against him—he was like her big brother—but she'd never thought him capable of this.

Absorbed in her work, she didn't hear the elevator ding or notice him entering until he spoke.

"Abby."

Not looking up, she replied "What do you want, DiNozzo?"

"To talk, Abs."

"I'm kinda busy."

"Come on, Abs."

She let the fragments she was working on drop to the surface of the lab table and crossed her arms.

"Ok, fine. How could you do this, Tony? He was your partner! What if there'd been someone with a gun or something and you weren't there?"

"I know, Abs, alright? I should have been covering McGee."

"Damn right you should have, Tony. Now leave me alone; I've got work to do."

"Abby, McGee would have been hurt no matter which one of us opened that door." Tony pointed out.

"At least he would have had your back, DiNozzo, which is more than I can say about you" she snapped. She turned on her heel and entered the second part of her lab, locking the automatic door behind her.

She sat down at her desk and started looking up information on some of the fragments she'd identified, checking occasionally to make sure he'd gone.

...

Abby jiggled and twisted the last little piece of the part she was working on into place. She was sure she had this section of the bomb assembly at least mostly intact; it was hard to tell, since it was pretty much impossible to retrieve every little fragment after an explosion. It took her a few moments to identify what she was looking at. When she did, she felt a sinking feeling. She really wanted to be there when Tim got out of surgery this time, but judging by what she'd found that wasn't going to happen.

"Damn it." She wasn't aware she'd spoken out loud until she heard Gibbs' voice.

"What do you got, Abs?"

"Hey Gibbs. I've been trying to put the bomb fragments back together, to try and figure out how it was triggered. See this?" She pointed out the v-shaped piece she'd just reassembled. "It's a pressure plate, Gibbs, but it works a little backwards. See, the detonator and a 9 volt battery is hooked up to this piece of metal. The door put pressure on one side of the v, holding it closed between the bomb itself and the door, which stopped the v from springing open and touching the metal that the detonator is attached to. When McGee opened the door, it released the pressure, letting the V open and completing the circuit."

"Which detonated the bomb. They booby trapped the damn door." Gibbs observed.

"Exactly. Whoever designed this, they did it so that opening the door even just a little bit would cause the bomb to go off. But Balboa's team said there was nothing in the storage locker it was attached to."

"They weren't protecting themselves; they were targeting us. We were set up." Gibbs thought out loud. "Can you trace the hotline call that tipped us off to the storage yard?"

"I can try."

Gibbs nodded. "That's good work, Abs."

He deposited a Caf-Pow on her bench and left the lab.

Sighing, she opened up the trace program and picked up Bert. Hugging the stuffed hippo, she said "Maybe I'll get to be there when he wakes up."

...

"Got it!"

Abby picked up the lab phone and called Gibbs.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"I've got a hit on the hotline call" she told him excitedly.

"Be right there." There was a click as he hung up.

A few moments later he walked in, carrying her favourite beverage.

"You traced the call?" he asked.

"Yeah. It wasn't made from a conventional telephone, Gibbs. They were using a voice over IP service." Catching his blank look, she explained. "It's where you use your internet connection to make and receive telephone calls, Gibbs."

"They were using a computer to make phone calls?"

"Yeah. So anyway, I followed the IP trail. They bounced it through several different servers in several different countries-"

"Where, Abs?" Gibbs cut her off.

"The munitions lockup computer at Quantico."

"Good work." He turned to leave, but she called him back.

"Gibbs?"

He looked at her for a moment and then nodded.

"Go on, go see McGee. Call me the minute he wakes up."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: It occurred to me that there really hasn't been much McGee in this story. Ironic as it is about him.**

**This may be the last chapter I post for a couple of days, as it's shaping to be extremely busy at work this weekend. Please bear with me, and thanks for reading. F.  
**

Sensation slowly returned.

He tensed, waiting for the burning pain to reappear, and then slowly relaxed as it failed to appear. It was replaced by a dull, throbbing ache. He tried to move his shoulder, hoping that the change of position would ease the soreness. Panic swept over him; he couldn't move his arm. He tried to turn his head to see, but was stopped by something firm. What was going on?

His eyes flew open, searching for someone, anyone that could tell him what had happened. All he could see was an off-white ceiling. It looked institutional somehow. As he tried to figure out where he was, he heard a voice.

"Hey, he's awake!" It came from somewhere beside him. Suddenly there were two faces in his line of vision. One he'd never seen before; the other was Abby. She'd never looked quite so good to him before, he decided. She was watching him with concern in her big green eyes.

"Timmy?"

"Abs." He rasped. "My arm...can't." The words wouldn't come out, but she understood.

"Shh, it's ok. You're in the hospital. They had to operate on your arm; that's why you can't move it—to let it heal."

She looked like she was about to cry. That wasn't right; Abby shouldn't cry.

"'M sorry." He mumbled. His eyelids fluttered closed. He slept.

...

When he awoke the next time, the room was in semi-darkness. He couldn't tell how much time had passed. He let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a few minutes before trying to see what they'd done to his left side. He'd slept badly, disturbing snatches and fragments of memory haunting his dreams. Most of them had faded, leaving him unable to recall them. All except for one. He twisted in the bed, trying to confirm or deny his nightmare.

He heard the sound of someone getting up from a chair and hurrying towards him. Sarah's face came into his vision.

"Tim, calm down." She gently pushed against his right shoulder, making him lie flat "You'll hurt yourself."

He stopped struggling, but he had to know.

"Sarah... I need to see it."

"See what, Tim?"

"My arm" he told her. He could see from the sudden rigidity of her face that it wasn't good news. He swallowed against the rising fear "I-I heard the doctors talking when they brought me in. They didn't- they didn't –"he could hear the note of panic in his voice making him sound shrill and forced himself to take a deep breath. "Do I still have my arm?"

At her slow nod, he let go the breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding. Relief made him tremble; the memory had been fragmented, but so vivid. She took his right hand, carefully lifting it over his chest so he could touch his heavily bandaged left arm.

"I thought- I thought they'd have to amputate it" he said, his voice still slightly higher than normal.

"They nearly did." Sarah whispered. She cleared her throat, and then continued in a stronger voice "Abby wouldn't let them."

"Abby? What about Mum and Dad?" he asked. He couldn't think why Abby would be called on to make that sort of decision.

"They're on the cruise, remember?" Sarah reminded him. Their parents had decided to take an extended cruise through the South Pacific, calling it their second honeymoon. "Something went wrong with the ship's satellite phone and I haven't been able to contact them."

"Where is Abby?" he asked. He needed to talk to her; to thank her, and to apologise for forcing her to make that choice.

"She went home; she hadn't slept since you were hurt, Tim. Gibbs and Doctor Mallard went to the cafeteria; they should be back any moment"

"Sarah, will you please call me Ducky?"

McGee turned his head slightly, seeing Ducky enter the room followed by Gibbs. They came towards the bed.

"You're awake, dear boy. You gave us quite a scare." The words were delivered in a jovial tone, but the elderly ME's eyes were solemn. McGee looked to Gibbs, seeing a similar serious expression. It was obvious they wanted to talk to him. Ducky addressed Sarah

"Why don't you go and get something to eat, Sarah? Gibbs and I will sit with Timothy for a few minutes."

McGee could see Sarah resisting and added his entreaties to Ducky's.

"Go on Sarah, you need to eat" he told her. She gave in and left, promising to be back shortly. When he was certain she was gone, McGee looked at the two older men.

"So they're letting you break the bad news?" he asked.

Ducky sighed. "I've managed to convince them that I'm your personal physician. Your surgeon and I agreed that it would be better coming from someone you know, instead of a stranger."

McGee nodded; he understood that much.

"Your shoulder was very badly injured. They had to take you back in for surgery again this morning to reconstruct it."

"Sarah told me that Abby stopped them from amputating." He tried to keep his voice as steady as he could.

"Abby said she couldn't do that to you." Gibbs said.

"Yes, well, with that sort of damage, there's the possibility that you won't get full movement back in your shoulder." Ducky told him gently. McGee swallowed, trying to absorb the knowledge.

"How much movement will I lose?" he asked.

"With time and intensive physiotherapy, you should get much of the movement back." Ducky hedged.

"How much?" he asked, more insistently this time.

Ducky sighed.

"Around 30 to 40 percent. You'll still be able to perform most normal activities."

McGee let that sink in for a moment before asking his one burning question.

"Field work?"

No one spoke, but the look of pity and sorrow in his Boss' eyes was answer enough.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Another chapter! This one is Tim-centric again; hope you enjoy it.**

**I was on a roll tonight, so I should even post another one tomorrow. I wrote this, a chapter of 'Hangovers' and a new story which reflects my rather dark mood at the moment.**

**Thanks for reading. F.  
**

They watched him uneasily for a short while, as if they were expecting him to react badly. Truth was, he wasn't sure what to feel right now. His mind was numb with disbelief; this couldn't be happening, couldn't be real. He felt strangely disconnected, as if everything was happening to someone else.

Finally finding his voice, he said "I think I'd like to be alone now."

They took the hint and left, the sympathy in Ducky's expression almost too hard to bear.

'No field work'.

The thought took time to sink it did, McGee felt anger and despair flood through him. Being an NCIS field agent; it had been his dream for as long as he could remember. And he loved his job, he truly did. Sure it was dangerous; he had mourned the loss of Pacci, of Paula Cassidy, of Jim Nelson and of course, Kate. But you never really thought that something would happen to you.

And now something had, and he was left with no choice. He knew that he wouldn't be able to do anything else at the Agency; that made it worse. It wouldn't just be a matter of leaving the team; he'd have to leave the Agency all together. He felt the threatened tears start to fall at that, despite his best efforts. He let himself weep for everything that had been taken from him.

The sound of the door handle turning made him stop and get himself under control. He scrubbed at his face with his good hand, trying to conceal the fact that he'd been crying. He couldn't let Sarah see him like this.

But it wasn't Sarah that entered his room; it was Abby.

"Gibbs said you were awake" she said. "Do you mind if I come in for a little while?"

He managed a smile at that.

"Come in Abs; you're always welcome" he told her.

She sat down in the chair next to his bed, watching him closely. So, she'd been tipped off by Gibbs.

"How's your arm?" she asked.

"A lot better than it could have been, because of you." He paused. "Thank you, Abby. I'm sorry you had to make that choice."

"I couldn't let them do that, Timmy. I just couldn't." Her face was troubled. He reached out with his right hand and clumsily patted hers. "You did the right thing" he reassured her. "It's going to take time, but it'll heal."

She was silent for a moment, looking as if she was arguing with herself about something.

Finally she burst out "Gibbs said you can't be a field agent anymore." Her eyes implored him to deny it.

Slowly he nodded. "The damage is too bad, Abs; I won't get full movement back"

"God, Tim, I'm sorry."

He didn't know what to say. He shrugged his good shoulder.

"It's ok, Abby- I'm still alive" he pointed out.

She didn't know what to say to that, relapsing into silence.

...

The quiet quickly became oppressive. As if she felt the need to fill it, Abby began talking to him of her ideas for when he returned to work. McGee listened for a few minutes, trying to enter into her plans with enthusiasm.

Suddenly he couldn't take it anymore.

"Abs, stop. Please. Just-just stop."

She looked utterly bewildered, forcing him to explain.

"Stop acting as if everything will go back to normal in a week or two; it's not going to, Abs. I'll probably never go back to NCIS, not now."

"Timmy, even if you can't be a field agent anymore doesn't mean you have to leave. There's other things you can do at the Agency."

"Like what? Even as a case agent I'd have to pass a fitness test" he pointed out. "Which I'm not likely to be able to do."

"Forensics? You have a degree in that" she started. He cut her off.

"Computer forensics, Abby. It's not the same. I can't do half the things you do. If a degree in computer forensics was enough to do your job, most of the Cybercrimes unit would be able to do it." Seeing her open her mouth to say something, he continued "And don't even suggest Cybercrimes. I couldn't do that again." He sighed. "Fact is, the only thing I've ever wanted to do was be a field agent. I'm not qualified to do anything else."

He looked at her, seeing her begrudging acceptance of the truth of his words.

"What are you going to do?" she half whispered.

"I don't know yet" he admitted.


	9. Chapter 9

Tony stood in front of the plasma, studying security camera footage for the second time in as many days. After Abby had traced the hotline call back to the munitions lockup, Gibbs had assigned him the task of figuring out who it was that had placed the call.

"Found out who placed that call yet, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' voice came from behind him.

"Not yet, Boss. Every person accessing the lockup has to use a swipe card to unlock the door. Looks like a credit card. Magnetic strip on the back, information goes to the lockup computer. The computer keeps a record of everyone entering the lockup with a date and timestamp. I'm still waiting for the log for the day the C4 went missing."

"So?"

"So, in the meantime I'm running through the security camera footage to see if I can identify who was using the lockup computer at the time the hotline call was placed."

Gibbs nodded at Tony just as Gibbs's cell phone beeped. He flipped it open and answered.

"Yeah, Gibbs." He listened for a moment. "Be right there."

"Abby's got something" he announced. "David, you're with me. DiNozzo. I want you to figure out who made that call." The usual curtness of the Boss' voice was more pronounced as he spoke to Tony. Gibbs left the bullpen with Ziva in his wake. As she rounded the partition on her way to the elevator, she shot Tony a puzzled look.

Inwardly Tony groaned. Obviously Gibbs hadn't explained to her why he'd been benched; he could see that being an unpleasant conversation. Despite the teasing and the occasional death threats, the Israeli was loyal to her teammates; she was also somewhat protective of McGee.

Knowing he was going to be in even more trouble than he already was if he didn't track down the caller's identity, Tony turned his attention back to the plasma.

...

"Whatdya got, Abs?" Gibbs greeted her as they entered the Forensics lab.

"More news on the bomb." She turned and faced the field agents. "The bomb didn't use all of the missing C4; if it had, there would have been a lot more structural damage to the storage locker for starters. That amount of C4, it's what you'd use if you were intending to try and blow up a building. Whoever built this, they're making more of them."

"How many more?" Gibbs asked.

"Judging by the amount of explosive in the one that hurt Tim, I'd say 3 to 7 more."

"Thanks, Abs." Gibbs turned to leave.

"Wait, Gibbs. I'm not done. When I finished reconstructing the bomb, I tore a glove. There's this jagged piece of metal, here." She pointed it out on the reconstruction photos she'd been looking at when they entered.

"Damaged by the explosion?" Ziva asked. Abby shook her head. "Good guess, but no. This is where the bomb was attached to the door; it wasn't distorted by the blast at all."

"It looks more like it was poorly cut" Gibbs pointed out.

"Exactly. It's a manufacturing fault, Gibbs. So I had a closer look at it..." she brought the feed from her computerised microscope up on the plasma "And I found this."

Gibbs looked at the image. There was a dark spot of something on and near the jagged edge. He gave Abby a confused look.

"It's blood, Gibbs. Whoever built this, they left their DNA behind."

"Run it."

"I already am, Gibbs."

"Nice work, Abs." He kissed her on the cheek and then left, Ziva a step behind him.

...

Tony stared at the plasma, puzzled.

"This doesn't make sense" he thought out loud.

"What doesn't make sense, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh hey Boss. Ah, the security footage doesn't make sense. I've checked between an hour before and an hour after the hotline call came in, in case the timestamp is wrong. No one goes near the lockup computer any time in that bracket."

He fast forwarded the footage through the timeframe they were looking for so that Gibbs could see what he meant.

"Get McGee-" Gibbs cut his own sentence off.

Filling the awkward silence, Tony said "The Director rang for you while you were downstairs, Boss. I left the message on your desk."

Gibbs turned and wordlessly started to climb the stairs to the mezzanine.

...

He swung the steel-clad door open without knocking. Evidently the Director had gotten used to his abrupt entrances. He didn't even look up as the door opened.

"Agent Gibbs." It was a statement, not a question.

"You wanted to see me, Director?"

Vance laid down the file he'd been reading. Typically, he got straight to the point.

"Any breaks in the case? SecNav would like to see this one figured out quickly; a bombing attack on a federal agent."

"Maybe. Waiting on test results right now" Gibbs told him.

Vance nodded. "Keep me in the loop. I hear Special Agent McGee is recuperating. How long will he be out for?"

"He damn near lost his arm, Leon, what do you think?"

"That leaves you a man down. I'm assigning you another agent-"

Gibbs cut him off. "I'm not replacing McGee. Not yet."

"This is purely a temporary assignment for the duration of this case. There's no question of replacing Agent McGee, at least not unless I have to."

Gibbs tilted his head slightly, fixing the Director with a stare. "With his injuries-"

"Provided Agent McGee can pass the same tests as any other agent, his injuries will not be a bar to resuming field duties" Vance informed him.

He took a moment to absorb that information, tucking it away for future reference. He'd seen the hopeless look that his youngest agent had tried to conceal. McGee would need something to motivate him through the long months of physiotherapy.

Vance held out the personnel file he'd been reading. "You've worked with this agent before. He's not an ideal fit, but he does have computer skills comparable to Agent McGee's, as well as some experience in the field."

Gibbs took the file and flipped it open, managing to keep his voice level as he read the name aloud.

"Special Agent Daniel Keating."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Ok, I know it's been a while between updates on this one. Please be patient. I'm writing as fast as I can. More soon. F.**

Tony looked up from his study of the computer log to see an anxious-looking man hovering indecisively near the edge of his desk. He sized him up, noting the absence of a visitor's badge, meaning he was NCIS; judging by his demeanour, Tony mentally pegged him as a clerk.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

Noticeably startled, the stranger stammered "Ah, I was told to report to Agent Gibbs. I'm- I'm Special Agent Keating."

Eyebrows raised, Tony shot a look at Ziva. She looked just as surprised as he did. This guy looked greener than some of the new recruits that came through; and surely they didn't have a replacement for McGee already? He'd only been injured 3 days ago.

"Gibbs is upstairs with the Director. Have a seat." Ziva told him.

As the newcomer moved towards McGee's desk, Tony and Ziva spoke in unison

"Not there."

At Keating's confused look, Tony explained "That's McGee's desk."

"I heard Agent McGee was injured."

"Doesn't matter; that's still McGee's desk" Tony told him.

"I see you've met Agent Keating" Gibbs commented as he entered the bullpen. "He's from Cybercrimes; he'll be filling in for McGee—temporarily." The tone of Gibbs' voice made it perfectly clear how little he relished the addition to his team. He nodded acknowledgement of Keating's tangled greeting before turning his attention to Tony.

"DiNozzo. What've you got?"

"I'm having a little trouble figuring this out, Boss. According to the computer log, only one person accessed the lockup or the computer when the phone call was made, a Lieutenant Michael Francis; but the security camera footage doesn't show anyone anywhere near the lockup at that time."

"Any chance they could have avoided the camera?" Gibbs asked him.

Tony shook his head. "Not a chance, Boss. There's a clear field of view, and the computer is right next to the munitions lockup. It doesn't add up."

"So either the computer log is wrong, or someone figured out how to access the computer from somewhere else." Gibbs contemplated the possibilities for a second. "Keating, help DiNozzo. Ziva, you're with me."

"Yes sir" Keating replied.

Gibbs chucked his empty coffee cup into the trash on his way out of the bull pen.

Keating watched them leave, asking Tony "Where are they going?"

"Probably to question Lieutenant Francis. Can we get on with this?"

"Oh, right. Um, what exactly do you want me to do?"

Tony rolled his eyes in frustration, deciding that 'Temporary replacement' better mean temporary.

...

Gibbs entered the headquarters building at a brisk walk. It had not been a good afternoon; first Keating, then Lieutenant Francis. He and Ziva had questioned the Lieutenant, discovering that he had an alibi for the time the hotline call. He'd sworn he was at the firing range, and he'd had three witnesses to prove it. They'd tracked down the witnesses; all three corroborated the Lieutenant's story. Gibbs had been out on a coffee run when he received Abby's excited phone call, telling him she had a hit on the DNA from the bomb. He stopped by the Caf-Pow dispenser on his way; he figured a DNA match deserved one.

She was watching for him when he entered her lab.

"You got a hit, Abs?" he asked her.

"Correction, Gibbs. I got two hits. Meet Sergeants Mark and Samuel Adams"

...

She could see that the multiple DNA matches had puzzled Gibbs. It had puzzled her too when two files had come up on her screen after AFIS found a match. She hastened to explain.

"They're identical twins, Gibbs."

"They share the same DNA."

"Exactly. Now, Sergeant Mark Adams was dishonourably discharged from the Marines four years ago after he was found guilty of selling drugs on base at Quantico, along with a bunch of other Marines. It was a sting operation, Gibbs. He was sentenced to six years in Leavenworth. Sergeant Samuel Adams was deployed in Iraq at the time, said he knew nothing about his brothers' illegal activities. Mark Adams was killed last month in a brawl at the prison."

"Who ran the sting?" Gibbs asked.

"It was one of ours." Abby confirmed.

"Motive" Gibbs commented. "So how did Sergeant Adams get Lieutenant Francis' password to access the munitions computer? And how did he make a call from the computer without being at the computer?"

Abby shrugged. She didn't have an answer for that one. But it did give her an opening.

"I heard about Keating" she told Gibbs. "He's not really replacing McGee, is he?"

"Temporarily, yeah Abs." Gibbs had that aggravated tone in his voice that told her he didn't like the replacement one bit.

"Permanently, Gibbs?" She had to know the answer. NCIS just wouldn't be the same without her favourite geek, and his replacement had better not be Keating.

"With luck we won't need a permanent replacement. If he passes his physical and firearms tests, he can come back as a field agent."

Incredulous, Abby stared at him for a moment. "Who said that?"

"Vance." Gibbs replied.

"Gibbs! Does Tim know?" She was really excited now; she'd been unable to picture working here without McGee, and now he might be able to come back after all.

"Nope. Haven't had a chance to tell him yet, Abs" he pointed out.

"You gotta tell him! You didn't see him last night, Gibbs." She shivered, remembering the cold, deadened look in McGee's eyes. "It was McGee, but it wasn't... it was like the shell of McGee. He needs this, Gibbs." She glared at the older man.

"I know, Abs."


	11. Chapter 11

McGee sat staring into space. Sarah covertly watched him as she studied, worrying about her brother. He'd barely spoken since his colleagues had visited him the night before, and his responses to her and the nursing staff seemed mechanical somehow. They'd given him bad news, that much was obvious. She wished she knew what it was, but he'd clammed up when she'd asked him what they'd said.

The knock on the door was a welcome change from the silence. Sarah noticed how much Tim's eyes brightened when he saw Abby enter and hid a smile.

"I'm going to go get something to eat" she informed them. "Do you want me to bring you back something, Tim?"

He shook his head. "No, thanks."

She left the room; if she wasn't around, at least maybe he'd talk to Abby.

...

Abby sat in the visitor's chair.

"How's your arm?" she asked.

"A little sore. Worse when whatever it is they're giving me wears off."

She gave him a knowing look. "I bet it's more than a little sore, Timmy."

He tilted his head, letting her know she was right but unwilling to admit it. He changed the subject, wanting to know how his last case was going.

"Have you simulated the blast yet?"

"Yesterday" she told him.

"So you know Tony wasn't there?"

"Yes" she snapped. She got up and started pacing. "He should have been there, Tim! He was your partner; partners don't just leave each other behind like that."

"Abs" he interrupted. "Can I see it?"

"What?"

"Can I see the simulation?"

"McGee-"

"Come on, Abs."

"Fine." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. "I knew you'd want to see it, so I filmed it on this."

She held the phone so he could see it, watching his reaction to the short clip.

"Rerun it" he told her.

When the second run through had finished, he nodded.

"Abs, it wasn't Tony's fault. If he'd been there, we probably would have both been killed."

She looked at him quizzically.

"Look." He took the phone, replaying the clip and pausing it where he wanted it. "Tony's about my height. If the door hadn't been in the way, these pieces of shrapnel would have gone through whichever of us was in front and hit the other in the chest. As it was, if Tony hadn't made a noise from across the street, I would've had the door the whole way open when the bomb went off. He saved my life, Abby."

"But your arm, Tim..."

"Will heal. Better than the alternative" he pointed out.

He could see Abby reassessing her opinion of Tony's conduct. He gave her a moment, knowing she'd have to think things over.

"So what'd Gibbs do when he saw this?" he asked.

"Banned Tony from the field." Abby told him.

He grimaced. "That leaves the team two short."

She ducked her head.

"Or does it?" he asked. She was refusing to meet his eyes. He knew the answer before he asked.

"Abby, did they bring someone else in to replace me?"  
"Temporarily, McGee" she admitted. "Just until we figure out who did this."

"Who?"

"You're not going to like it, Tim" she warned him. "They brought in Agent Keating."

"Keating? From Cybercrimes?"

He made a face when she nodded. He'd never worked with Keating, but he'd had to deal with the aftermath of Keating's temporary possession of his desk and computer. Some of the things he'd put on McGee's computer in particular had seemed a little self-serving, like having it greet him by name when the computer was rebooted.

"How's he doing?" he asked.

"Well, he managed to piss Tony and Gibbs off in the first half an hour, so I don't think he's going to last very long."

Trying to be fair, McGee told her "It takes time to get used to the team. I used to piss Gibbs and Tony off all the time."  
"You were never that green, McGee. I'd better go. The sisters will be waiting for me. But I'll come by and see you again tomorrow."

He smiled. "See ya, Abs."

He watched her leave. Of all the people at NCIS, Abby would be the one he'd miss the most. Sure, he'd still get to see her occasionally— she was his best friend, after all— but it wouldn't be the same.

He was still smiling faintly when Sarah came back into the room. She looked at him suspiciously.

"You look a little happier. Was it the visit or the visitor?"

"Abby's good at cheering people up" he replied noncommittally.

"I'm sure she is. What's going on between you two, anyway?" she asked.

"Sarah, Abby and I are just friends. You know that."

"Oh come on, Tim, she's been here almost as much as I have. And that's the first time I've seen you smile since you woke up."

"Leave it alone, Sarah" he warned.

...

Unheeded by both of them, Gibbs stood in the open doorway and studied his youngest agent. Even in the midst of his spat with his younger sister, McGee's eyes were dull. Last night he'd tried to tell himself that it was the after effects of the anaesthesia, but he'd seen that look before. It was the look of someone who'd had everything taken from them. He knew that the only way to get past it was to have something to work towards. Abby was right. McGee needed to know that there was still a place for him at the Agency.

He took a step into the room, attracting McGee's attention.

"Hey Gibbs."

He nodded in reply, turning his head to talk to Sarah.

"Could you give us a minute?"

Sarah looked at her brother, picking up her bag off the floor.

"I'm going to go to the library and study. Midterms are coming up. I'll be by later."

Gibbs closed the door behind her and took a seat in the chair at the side of the bed.

"Can't stay long, McGee."

"How's the case, Boss?" the younger man asked.

"Got a possible suspect. Ziva and Keating are bringing him in now."

"How's Keating doing?"

"It's a good thing he's temporary."

"Any idea who's going to take my place permanently, Boss?" His question was hesitant, like he needed but didn't want the answer.

"No-one, McGee. That's why I'm here. Talked to Vance this afternoon. He says there's a chance you can return to the team."

He watched McGee's face, gauging his reaction. A look of incredulous surprise crossed the young agent's face.

"But-but how?"

"If you can pass the normal Agency tests, you can return to field agent status."

"Which tests?"

"Psychological, physical and firearms proficiency."

McGee was silent a moment, contemplating the amount of work he was going to have to do to pass those tests. When he looked back at Gibbs, determination burned in his previously dull eyes. Gibbs nodded and stood up. Pausing at the door, he said "Get some rest, Tim. You're going to need it." Then he flicked the lights off and closed the door.


	12. Chapter 12

Tony stood in the dark of the Observation room, watching the figure through the one-way mirror. Per Gibbs' orders, Ziva and the visibly terrified Keating had locked Staff Sergeant Adams in Interrogation, awaiting the Boss' arrival. Gibbs hadn't said where he was going when he sent them out to pick up Adams; nothing unusual in that. But it was unlike Gibbs to let a suspect stew for over 2 hours.

The time in Interrogation hadn't seemed to diminish their suspect's confidence one little bit. He was smiling slightly, totally at ease with his surroundings. Tony burned to watch Gibbs break this guy—if Abby was right, he'd damn near killed the man that was more brother than friend—but he was starting to doubt whether Gibbs would be able to. Even Gibbs wasn't perfect.

He turned as the door opened, seeing Ziva and Keating enter; Ziva obviously looking forward to the upcoming session, Keating just as obviously reluctant to be here. Tony felt his distaste for Keating growing. 'Whether he'd worked with McGee or not', Tony thought, 'he could at least show some interest in putting away someone that had maimed a fellow agent.'

"Gibbs?" Tony queried.

"Just got back" Ziva replied. Briefly she studied the lone occupant of the Interrogation room. "He still looks confident."

"Yeah. I don't like it." Tony stated flatly. "He's too confident."

Ziva started to reply, but was distracted by the door to Interrogation opening. Gibbs entered the room, his rigid posture announcing his state of mind.

"Gibbs is pissed" Tony observed. Ziva hushed him, her eyes intent on what was happening before them.

...

Gibbs laid a photograph of the storage facility on the table in front of Adams. "Recognise this?"

The sergeant picked up the photo, barely glancing at it before he carelessly dropped it onto the table.

"No."

Gibbs put down another photo, this time of one of the storage lockers. Adams gave it the same cursory glance before letting it slip back onto the table. "Not ringing any bells either, Agent Gibbs." His emphasis on the word 'Agent' made it sound like an insult. Gibbs carefully slid another photo across the table. This one was a crime scene photo, taken by one of Balboa's team after the blast. Adams awarded it the same fleeting look, but Gibbs caught the small flicker of triumph in his eyes. Controlling his rising anger, he methodically laid out photos of the reconstructed bomb. "This was recovered from the storage locker" he explained. "Recognise it at all?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"You should; we found your blood on it."

Adams leant back in his chair, looking bored. "So what?"

"So we can link you to a bomb that severely injured a federal agent."

Adams looked sceptical at that. "If you could prove that, I'd be under arrest. Looks to me like all you can prove is that I cut myself on something." He stood, pushing back his chair. "So unless you're going to arrest me, I'll be going now."

Knowing the evidence against him was slim and circumstantial, Gibbs merely replied "Don't leave town, Marine" as the sergeant exited the room.

...

Ziva, DiNozzo and Keating were waiting for him when he left the Interrogation room. "He's guilty, Boss" Tony stated.

"Well, yeah, DiNozzo, I know that" came the sarcastic reply.

"We're just gonna let him go?"

Gibbs turned, coming up so he was practically nose to nose with Tony. "You figured out how he made that call yet?"

"Not yet, Boss" he admitted.

"Well, what are you doing down here? Find out how he made that damned call!"

"On it, Boss."


	13. Chapter 13

Ziva studied her partner from across the bullpen. Night had fallen, and the overhead lights had been turned off for the night. The pool of light from her desk lamp and the faint glow from Tony's computer were all that broke the darkness. Gibbs had dismissed them an hour ago, leaving quickly; Ziva suspected his abrupt exit was due to a wish to visit McGee. Intending to follow him, she'd packed up her belongings. Something about Tony had prevented her from leaving, however. He was sitting, staring blankly into space, a serious expression on his face.

She'd been surprised when Gibbs had sent her with Keating and not Tony to bring in Sergeant Adams earlier this afternoon, but had put it down to the need to give Keating more experience. Recalling Gibbs' attitude towards Tony since yesterday, several cryptic comments from Abby and Tony's own words after McGee had been rushed to hospital, she suddenly wasn't so sure. Judging by Tony's expression now, something was wrong with her partner. She suspected he had a case of survivor's guilt- not that McGee had died, but the principle was the same. Getting up from her desk, she took the few steps across the bullpen to talk to him.

...

Interrupted from his thoughts by her presence, Tony looked up at Ziva questioningly.

"McGee's injuries are not your fault, Tony" she stated. He snorted.

"Yeah? Well, you obviously haven't seen Abby's simulation then, Ziva." He continued when she looked confused. "If you had, you wouldn't be saying that. Didn't you wonder why all of his injuries are on one side?"

"I thought that he was shielded by the door."

"He was, but only because he was turning away when the bomb went off. To look for me."

"To look for you?" she echoed. "Where were you?"

He hadn't actually told anyone exactly what he'd been doing when the blast occurred. Abby had asked, but he hadn't replied before Gibbs had entered. Gibbs had assumed. He'd been doing his job, but not the right way. Not the way he'd been trained. He needed to say it, to explain, especially to Ziva. He doubted she'd understand, but he had to know she knew. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. He was tired; he hadn't really slept since McGee was hurt, hadn't been able to.

"I thought we were on a wild goose chase" he began, watching her to make sure she knew the phrase. "We'd searched so many damned lockers and come up with nada. I just wanted to get it over with."

"You split up?" she guessed. She was quick; one of the things he liked about her.

"Yeah" he admitted. "I went across the alley, started searching the lockers on that side. Next thing I know..." He trailed off. "I should have been there, Ziva."

She just stood there, watching him, her face a mask. Her dark eyes were in shadow, stopping him from seeing whatever emotions were playing through them. He wished she'd say something, yell at him, do something. Somehow the silence was worse than Abby's fury or Gibbs' quiet menace.

When she finally spoke, it wasn't the question he'd expected.

"Have you been to see McGee?"

"And say what? Sorry about your arm? Sorry about your career?" The words were bitter; he'd had to face the fact that he was responsible for ending McGee's career, and he didn't quite know how to handle that.

"I do not think that he would blame you, Tony."

"That doesn't change anything, Ziva."

He looked back down at his desk, refusing to look at her, hoping she'd leave him in peace. Eventually he heard her sigh and walk away, leaving him alone in the darkness.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Ok so it's been a few days since I updated this. I seem to be apologising a lot for irregular posting lately. The writer's block seems to be easing though, so hopefully I'll be able to go back to my usual posting schedule. Thanks to everyone who kept reading even with week long breaks between chapters. F.**

McGee was bored.

He'd been stuck in this hospital bed for 5 days now; 4 that he could remember. And while he wasn't always the most active of people due to his geek leanings, at least when he was at his computer he was still doing something. Here all he could do was lie there and think. Even reading was difficult- it felt awkward and clumsy trying to hold anything in his right hand, and turning the page was just plain annoying. Up until today, he hadn't really noticed the boredom, mainly because they'd been giving him some strong painkillers and they'd clouded his mind. Now, he was starting to heal and overnight the doctors had begun the process of weakening the medications they had him on. They'd also lightened the bandages on his arm and side, allowing him movement from his elbow down with strict instructions not to try to rotate his shoulder. He was glad to follow those; he'd only tried to move it once, and he wouldn't soon forget the pain it had caused.

It was still rather strange to him, the extent of the damage to his arm; he'd sneaked a look at it once while they were performing the painful task of changing the dressings, and then he wished he hadn't. Crisscrossed with lines of stitches, it looked wrong somehow; he'd barely recognised it as part of himself. He knew his shoulder and upper arm were even worse.

He'd be starting physiotherapy soon, the doctors had told him. Good. He knew he had months of it ahead of him before he could think of returning to work, so the sooner it began the better. As much as he tried not to, he resented Keating having taken his place on the team- even temporarily. From what Abby had told him, Keating was doing a mediocre job of it. Abby had been a constant visitor, coming to see him every night, and having lunch with him yesterday. She hadn't even balked at seeing how messy even a simple task like eating was for him right now. Somehow her lack of concern about that aspect of his injuries had lessened his embarrassment.

Although technically she probably shouldn't, she kept him up to date with what was happening. So he'd heard about the inconclusive interrogation of Adams, and about Tony's relentless search for how exactly Adams had made the call. Keating apparently wasn't being much help. The problem wasn't Keating's computer skills—McGee knew that they were considerable, as good as his own; you couldn't work in the cyber unit for very long without having some pretty heavy duty tech knowledge behind you. No, the problem was that Keating just didn't think like an investigator. That was why he'd been transferred back to Cybercrimes in the first place. McGee itched to get a look at the munitions lockup computer; he was betting that Keating wasn't thinking outside the box enough to not have missed something. Abby was good, but she had so much other evidence to process that she just couldn't devote the time needed to do a comprehensive search. He wanted to help, to do his job, not just be stuck here helpless in the hospital.

Now that he could think clearly, the technological side of this case was bugging him. He was still musing about it when Abby came in for her nightly visit. Gradually he became aware of her watching him reproachfully.

"McGee. You're ignoring me."

"Huh? Oh, sorry Abs." He paused. "Abby, do you remember when Cassidy's team was killed? One of the terrorists was using a text to speech program to make phone calls to the tip line."

"Yeah, so?"

"So have you tried running a voice print analysis on the hotline call?"

"Well, yeah McGee; it was Lieutenant Francis's voice, same as his computer id."

"What if Adams was doing the same thing? What if he was using a text to speech program to mimic Francis's voice?"

"But he'd need a CT scan of the Lieutenant's head and neck for that" she objected.

"How do we know he doesn't have one?" McGee countered.

Her eyes wide, she stood up slowly from the chair next to his bed.

"I gotta check this out." She rushed to leave, pausing at the doorway.

"Thanks, Tim."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Yay, a chapter! Actually, I have a few ready to post. Thanks for your patience!**

**And special thanks to Trina109 :)  
**

Abby marched purposefully into her darkened lab. She flicked on her computers, ignoring the other equipment. She wouldn't need it for this. As she waited impatiently for the boot cycle to finish, she criticised herself mentally. Why hadn't they thought of a text to speech program? Especially as it had been so significant in the search for the terrorists who'd ended up killing Cassidy. She should have thought of it herself, so why hadn't she? Why hadn't Keating? She dismissed that; Keating didn't have the instincts to come up with that one. And they depended on McGee to find answers to the technological questions. Dimly she found it ironic that a seriously injured McGee had been more help to this case than Keating.

No text to speech program of any kind had been found on the lockup computer; she knew that from working on it. And no-one had been near the computer anyway when the call had been made, she reminded herself. Which meant that the computer had been accessed remotely, and whoever had done it had left little to no trace behind. Keating had searched the computer for such traces and had pronounced it clean; but he'd been looking for the traces that would be left behind by someone of middling skill. If what Tim had suggested was true, then Adams had better computer skills than his bio had led them to suspect. Finally she was able to access the mirror she'd created of the lockup computer. Wistfully she glanced at the empty chair, the one that was usually occupied by McGee when they went on one of these quests. It just wouldn't be as much fun without him. She shook her head and set to work.

...

McGee startled awake with a jerk, sweating. His heart pounded uncomfortably and his hands trembled from the after effects of the nightmare. It had been so real, so vivid. He could almost hear the deafening roar of the blast, almost taste the dust. He'd hit the ground and turned his head to see limbs strewn across the ground, and known in horror that they were his. He'd woken on the point of screaming.

He lay back, staring at the ceiling while his breathing and heart rate slowly returned to normal. After that, he didn't want to return to sleep. It was as dark as it ever got in a hospital room, and quiet. He wished for a moment that he didn't have a private room; he wanted someone to talk to, to keep him awake.

As the thought formed in his mind, the door creaked slowly open, admitting the one person that hadn't come to visit him. Tony. He moved quietly across the room and settled in the chair without speaking. McGee waited; Tony had come all the way here in what was apparently the dead of night, so something had to be bothering him. And waited. Finally impatient, he spoke.

"Never thought I'd say this again, but it's good to see you Tony."

As if the words were the catalyst he needed, Tony started to talk.

"I'm sorry, Probie."

The unexpected apology threw McGee off guard for a moment.

"I'm sorry for it all, Tim. Your arm, your career, everything. If I had just been where I was supposed to be-"

McGee cut him off. "Then you'd be dead."In the dim light from the corridor, McGee saw Tony blink in surprise. Evidently that hadn't occurred to him. "You saw Abby's simulation, right?"

"Yeah." Tony's response was questioning, as if he was unsure where McGee was leading to.

"Then you know as well as I do, if you'd been leading you would have gotten hit right in the chest when the bomb went off. As it was, if you hadn't made me turn when you did, I'd be dead now." The force of his words made Tony sit up a little straighter. "As for my career" McGee continued "I didn't want to tell anyone in case I can't do it... But Vance told Gibbs that if I can pass the usual tests, I can come back as a field agent."

...

It had taken hours, but she'd done it. She'd managed to find the minute traces that signalled that someone had hacked into the lockup computer. There'd been numerous attempts to cover the traces as well as the massive amount of firewalls and encryption she'd had to break through to find the traces in the first place, but she'd done it. Now it was just a matter of back tracing the intruder's IP address and linking it to a physical address. She picked up her Caf-Pow off the bench and tried to take a sip, grimacing when she realised the oversized cup was empty. She tossed it into the trash can, where it joined several others. With a start she noticed the light filtering in through her bullet-resistant windows. She'd been here all night. Shrugging off the tiredness that hit her with the dawn, she hit the button that would start the trace.

She heard the elevator ding just as her computer beeped. Bouncing up and down a little in her excitement at the result, she spun as Gibbs entered her lab with a fresh Caf-Pow.

"Gibbs! I figured out how Adams made the call! Well, it wasn't just my idea, it was McGee's."

Gibbs' usual gaze became more intense at her words.

"How?"

"He hacked into the lockup computer, Gibbs. Tim thought he might be using a text to speech program, like the guys that killed Cassidy's team. So I traced it back to an IP address. It's registered to Samuel Adams."

"So if he's got a text to speech program on his computer..."

"Then we've got him, Gibbs."

"That's good work, Abs."


	16. Chapter 16

Ziva studied Tony as he locked his SIG in his desk. He looked better today, she decided. Tired, but somehow better. He still wasn't the normal Tony; his trademark grin was still missing, but he was closer. She hoped he'd gone and seen McGee like she'd suggested. He couldn't keep avoiding it like he'd been doing.

As if he felt her eyes on him he straightened and looked at her. "Good morning, Tony" she greeted him, unabashed at being caught staring.

...

"Morning, Ziva" he responded automatically, part of his mind elsewhere. He kept running over his visit to McGee the night before. Ziva had been right; Probie didn't blame him for his injuries. And he'd been right too; it didn't make a difference, not much of a one anyway. It helped a little that Tim didn't blame him, but he still blamed himself. What had made the burden of guilt lighter was the revelation that McGee might still be able to come back and rejoin the team. Disdainfully he looked over to Keating's temporary desk. He'd do anything to get Probie back here where he belonged, even if was only to get rid of temporary replacements like Keating.

His musing was interrupted by Gibbs' entrance into the squad room.

"Gear up."

He shot a look at DiNozzo.

"You too, Tony."

His heart leapt; he pulled out his badge and gun and grabbed his pack.

"Where are we going, Boss?" he asked as they reached the elevators.

"To pick up Adams." The reply was typically clipped, but Tony could hear the anticipation in Gibbs' voice.

"Did we get a warrant?" Ziva sounded puzzled.

"Nope; probable cause. Abby figured out how he got into the lockup computer."

...

It felt good to be back in the field again, Tony reflected as they took up their positions around the modest house occupied by Sergeant Adams. Gibbs had sent Ziva and Keating around the back, leaving himself and Tony to cover the front. They'd approached silently, noting the presence of the sergeant's car in the driveway. It was still early enough that he hadn't reported for duty yet. Once Ziva radioed that they were in position, Gibbs kicked the door in and announced their presence at volume.

"Federal agents!"

As they advanced into the house with guns drawn, they could hear the calls of Ziva and Keating as they made their way through

"Clear!"

If the back area was clear, Adams must be in the front section of the house. Gibbs led the way down the hall, kicking open the door to the main bedroom. Adams was there, in full uniform. He laughed as he saw them, but the smile was quickly wiped from his face as Gibbs cuffed him.

Tersely Gibbs gave orders as he half dragged Adams out to the sedan.

"Tony, Keating, look around. Make sure you get his computers- Abby needs them. Ziva, you're with me."

Left alone with the greenest agent he'd ever worked with, Tony grimaced. This was going to take time.

...

Instead of spreading out, Tony made sure he stayed in the same room as Keating. It would take longer, but he wasn't convinced of Keating's ability. They bagged and tagged two computers, a laptop and a desktop, and numerous other items that might prove relevant. They didn't find any sign of explosives, something that had Tony on edge.

It wasn't until they were leaving that Keating made his first significant discovery of the day. Walking down one side of the house on their way back to the truck, Tony heard him say "What's this?" With a sick feeling of horror, he turned to see Keating tugging on a fine piece of wire extending from the wall of the house.

"Don't touch that!" he started to say, but it was too late.

With a massive roar, the tripwire triggered the bombs that had been planted in the hidden basement.

**A/N: Ok, I had to do it. Couldn't help myself. F.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Ok, I have to admit- blowing up Keating was so much fun. Hope I'm forgiven for blowing up Tony too after this chapter. More tomorrow! F.**

Tony lay flat on his back where the explosion had knocked him, watching as fragments of wood and brick fell around him. He reflected that this was the second time in a week that someone had tried to blow up the team. Turning his head, he located Keating. The younger agent lay a few feet away, groaning. First things first, he told himself. Hauling himself to his feet with a considerable effort, he made his way over to Keating. The junior agent wasn't injured, just winded from the impact with the ground. Good. That way Gibbs could kill him instead. The house leaned on a crazy angle, part of the rear having collapsed into the basement that they hadn't even discovered. Wincing a little, Tony pulled out his cell phone. He had to call the Boss. He hit the speed dial button for Gibbs' cell.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Boss, we've got a problem" he began.

...

By the time Gibbs and Ziva returned to the scene, Keating had recovered and was sitting on the kerb with his head in his hands. He stood quickly as the sedan pulled up. Tony stood watching from a short distance away. The fury practically radiated off Gibbs, and for a moment Tony almost felt sorry for the hapless junior agent. Almost. Gibbs stalked past Keating without a glance in his direction, heading towards Tony instead.

"What in the hell happened, DiNozzo?"

"Tripwire, Boss. We were taking the evidence back to the truck; don't know how he found it. I was ahead of him. I heard him say something and I turned around to see him tugging on this wire. Next thing I know, we're on the ground and the house looks like that." He gestured in the general direction of the partially demolished house.

"He pulled on the wire?"

"Yeah, Boss."

Gibbs mumbled something under his breath that sounded distinctly like a curse. Tony recoiled a little; he'd rarely seen Gibbs this angry, and he was glad it wasn't directed at him.

"Either of you hurt?"

"Few cuts and bruises."

Gibbs nodded, then turned his head slightly towards Ziva, standing a little way behind him.

"Ziva, you and Tony take him and process the scene. Or what's left of it."

The last was said just loud enough for Keating to hear it. Tony saw him cringe at the words. Still without looking at Keating, Gibbs got back in the sedan and drove away.

...

On his return to Headquarters, Gibbs headed straight to the Director's office, barging past the secretary in the outer office and storming through the steel clad door.

"Agent Gibbs. What can I do for you?" Vance responded calmly.

"Get Keating off my team" Gibbs ground out.

"He's a little green-" Vance began.

"Damn it Leon! He's useless as an investigator and downright dangerous in the field!" Planting his hands on the Director's desk, he leaned over his boss. "His actions today damn near cost me a member of my team."

Vance favoured him with a look, requesting explanation.

"He pulled on a tripwire, triggering a bomb in our suspect's house. He almost killed himself and DiNozzo. And destroyed evidence."

For the first time, Vance displayed alarm.

"Anyone injured?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Few scratches."

"Get rid of him."

Gibbs nodded, heading for the door. Vance stopped him.

"Your recommendation?"

"Same as last time, Leon. Stick him in Cybercrimes."

With that, he exited the room, shutting the door behind him.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: As promised, here's another chapter. I'm running out of completed chapters, but I'll try to get a chapter up at least** **once every second day! F.**

"Abby."

The touch on her shoulder brought her awake with a jump. She looked up to see Tony standing over her, trying to keep a grip on two computers. The laptop was in danger of sliding off the top of the desktop tower. She rescued it, laying it down on the bench next to where she'd been sleeping.

"Adams' computers; Gibbs said you needed them." Tony explained. "Where do you want this one?"

She pointed to the stainless steel evidence table, taking in the cuts and grazes that covered his arms and face. "What happened to you?"

"Another bomb."

Instantly concerned, she threw her arms around him in typical Abby fashion, letting him go when he winced a little.

"Oh my God Tony, are you ok? How did this happen?"

"I'm ok Abs. It was a booby trap. Keating found a tripwire." The look he gave her told her volumes about exactly how Keating had found the wire. "He's downstairs trying to avoid Gibbs. Ziva should be here soon-" They both heard the elevator ding. Tony finished his sentence as Ziva entered the lab. "With the remnants of the bomb. "

Ziva placed the crate she was carrying down next to the computer Tony had deposited and handed Abby a memory card from her camera. "Gibbs wants to know if there are any more bombs out there. And he says that if you need help with the computers to ask Cybercrimes."

"Keating?" Abby asked.

"Gibbs is looking for him." Ziva confirmed.

"This I gotta see." Tony and Ziva headed out of the lab, Tony walking stiffly. Abby turned her attention to the evidence she'd been given. She had two equally important tasks in front of her. She decided to concentrate on the bomb residue first; the computers couldn't kill people. Inserting the memory card into her computer, she brought the photos up on the screen, a little amazed at the amount of damage done to the house. The whole back left hand corner had sagged into the pit created by the bomb blast. Her first impression was that Adams had used a lot more C4 this time; from the damage it looked like overkill. She cycled through the photos on the card; as she suspected, not much was left intact of the basement or the back of the house. There appeared to be four areas where the damage was at its worst. Interesting. She set to work reconstructing the explosion from the photographs.

Slowly the picture became clearer. This is why she loved her work. Piecing together the evidence to figure out what had happened; it was like the world's best jigsaw puzzle every time. Adams had rigged multiple bombs in his basement that much was certain. But Tony had mentioned one tripwire. Why one? And why along the side of the house? It seemed like a strange place; not many people walked along the side of a house, they went to the front or rear doors.

She had the 'how', now she needed the 'what'. She moved on to the pieces of material that Ziva had brought in. Sorting this out was going to be more difficult. She needed more Caf-Pow.

...

Gibbs returned from a coffee run to find Keating seated at his temporary desk in the bullpen. Not for the first time he wondered how Keating and McGee could be so alike and yet so different. Both expensively educated, academically brilliant, technologically adept. But Keating displayed none of the qualities that made McGee a valued and important member of his team. No instinct, no real passion for the job. And while McGee had made the occasional blunder, he'd never endangered another member of the team out of sheer stupidity. His anger rising, he snapped out orders as he entered the bullpen.

"DiNozzo. Find out if Lieutenant Francis ever had a head CT scan done. David, help DiNozzo. Keating." He paused for a moment. "Grab your trash." He jerked his head towards the elevators meaningfully. Red faced, the junior agent collected his things and walked through the centre of the team's desks. Gibbs followed him to the elevators, noting Keating's surprise when he entered the elevator with him. Gibbs reached out and punched the button for the floor above before Keating could react, then snapped the emergency stop switch to on.

Keating was the first to speak.

"I really blew it today, didn't I sir?"

Gibbs wasn't about to deny that. "Yep."

"Am I being fired?"

Gibbs snapped the emergency stop back off. He just wanted this irritant gone.

"You damn near killed another NCIS agent today." As the elevator arrived at the executive mezzanine he continued "Report to the Director for reassignment."

After Keating scurried out of the elevator, Gibbs hit the button for Abby's lab. Hopefully she had something useful. Adams was still in a holding cell.

...

Abby's music was turned up to a level he recognised as her trying to keep herself awake. He walked straight past her and turned the music down, knowing she'd protest.

"Gibbs" she complained.

The look he gave her let her know he wasn't in the mood for her games.

"What d'ya got, Abby?"

"Right. Well there was more than one bomb, Gibbs. I found four areas where the blast damage is really bad. I've reconstructed part of two different bombs, both with different trigger mechanisms. This one is the one that Keating activated with the tripwire, and this one had a pressure plate like the one in the storage locker."

"He really wanted at least one to go off."

"Yeah. And he used a heap of explosive, Gibbs. It looks like he used the rest of the C4 just in his basement."

"Anything else?"

"The workmanship is different; it's sloppier, less meticulous than the first bomb."

"Different maker?"

"No, it's the same maker Gibbs. It's more like he was rushed this time."

"We spooked him."

"Yeah. But what I don't get, Gibbs, is why he used so much explosive this time. He could have booby trapped that basement with way less, like he did with the storage locker."

"I dunno Abs; guess that's what we've gotta figure out."

On his way out he called over his shoulder "Go home Abs. Get some sleep."


	19. Chapter 19

She didn't.

Instead, feeling guilty about cutting her visit to McGee so short, she drove to Bethesda. Hurrying down the familiar hallways to his room, she felt her excitement growing. So much had happened since she left last night; she couldn't wait to fill him in. Reaching his room, she flung open the door and burst in impulsively.

"Timmy, you were...right..." her voice trailed off as she took in his appearance. His eyes were half closed, there were beads of sweat on his forehead, and his face was an awful shade of grey. She rushed to the bed. "Timmy, what's wrong? Are you ok?"

"Just give me a minute" he said faintly. She waited, hovering over his bed, watching as the colour slowly returned to his face. Finally he pulled himself up a little straighter in the bed and opened his eyes.

"Tim, what happened?"

"I'm fine." She gave him a sceptical look. "Really, Abs, I'm ok. Just leave it." Seeing that she wasn't about to, he sighed. "I had my first round of physio" he explained.

"Oh" was all she could come up with in reply. Surely it wasn't supposed to hurt that much? He'd been in a lot of pain, that was obvious. And shouldn't they wait until he'd healed a bit more?

Seemingly anxious to change the subject, he asked "You said I was right?"

It took her a second to recover her train of thought. "Oh! Yeah you were right. Well, sort of cause I haven't had time to look at Adams' computers yet, but-"

He interrupted her rambling. "Abs."

"Sorry. He definitely hacked into the lockup computer. I back traced it back to his personal IP address. So then they got there and Keating pulled on that stupid tripwire, and"

...

He watched her in amusement as she paced. He loved her in this mood; idly he wondered just how many Caf-Pows she'd had today. Then what she was saying sunk in

"Hang on. Keating pulled on a tripwire?"

"Yeah; Adams booby trapped his basement. Weren't you listening?"

He disregarded that. "Was anybody hurt?" he asked anxiously. He was relieved when she shook her head. "Tony has a few scrapes, that's all."

"And Keating?"

"Keating got bounced" she announced gleefully. He grinned; he couldn't pretend to be unhappy about that.

"Anyway, I've been reconstructing the bombs from Adams' basement so I haven't had a chance to look at his computers yet so I don't know if you were totally right yet."

"Abby, how many Caf-Pows have you had today?" he asked. She kept breaking into rambling mode; and it hadn't escaped him that she was wearing the same clothes as last night. "And what are you doing here? Not that I don't want you here or anything."

She thought for a moment. "I don't know, 8 or 10 maybe. And Gibbs told me to go home."

"You should get some sleep, Abs" he told her. He knew it was probably futile. She hadn't been nicknamed 'Energiser Abby' for no reason. Sure enough, she planted her hands on her hips and gave him that stubborn look. "Not until I finish with his computers, Timmy."

Neither of them noticed the door opening and people entering until someone spoke. "Are we interrupting?"

He knew that voice. He whipped around, hissing a little as the sudden movement jarred his shoulder. His parents stood framed in the doorway. Surprise made him momentarily speechless. Standing behind his mother was Sarah, grinning. He knew she was in on it. "Mum, Dad... what are you doing here?" he asked.

"We flew back as soon as we heard" his mother replied.

"I didn't even know Sarah had gotten in touch with you... and what about your cruise?"

"There'll be other cruises" his dad told him.

Abby touched his injured hand gently, saying "I should go, McGee." He turned his wrist and grasped her hand, stopping her from leaving. "Stay" he told her softly. Raising his voice a little, he introduced her. "Mum, Dad, this is Abby. Abs, these are my parents; Matthew and Elaine McGee."

Instantly his dad went towards Abby, his hand outstretched. "So you're Abby; we've heard a lot about you. This family owes you a lot."

"Tim told us how you saved Sarah. And now you've saved Tim as well. We can't thank you enough."

A little embarrassed by their gratitude, Abby tried to protest, explaining that it'd been Tim's insistence that Sarah had been drugged that had made her run the tests, same as she'd explained to Sarah a few days ago. She could see they didn't really believe her. And somehow the decision not to amputate was too fresh, too raw for her to discuss. She knew she'd made the right choice; but until today she hadn't really appreciated how much pain it would cause him or understand how much work it was going to take for him to return to the team. She took her leave a few minutes later, wanting to let the McGee family have some time together.

She wandered idly down the hallway, contemplating going home and getting some sleep. She knew she should; but she got in her hearse and drove back to the Navy Yard. She really wanted to find out what was on those computers.

...

Elaine waited until she was sure Abby had gone before she asked the question she been wanting to ask.

"So; how long have you and Abby been dating?" She tried to keep it as casual as she could, knowing her only son hated it when she pried. Sure enough, she got the expected response of rolled eyes. "We're not" he answered shortly. This surprised her a little.

"But... she's your next of kin. And you two seem close." Tim shot her a slightly irritated glance. In the manner of someone who's had to repeat something several times he explained "Abby and I are close; she's my best friend. That's all." Drawing her own conclusions from the vehemence in his tone she let the subject drop, asking when he'd be released instead.

...

Sending Abby home would slow them down. Gibbs accepted that even while he got more and more impatient. They had a link between Adams and the tip line call now, sure, but it was tenuous at best. He needed Abby to find the evidence that would strengthen that link. And he wanted that evidence; he could probably charge Adams now, but he wanted to make sure the bastard went away without any doubt. Adams had gone after two of his people now, and he burned to knock the smug smile off his face. However, an exhausted Abby wouldn't help him in any way.

He could still question Adams about the bombs in his basement; so he had him brought up from the holding cell they'd locked him in and taken to Interrogation. He'd invoke the Patriot Act to keep Adams in custody until he had Abby's evidence if he needed to.

His cell rang just as he was about to open the Interrogation room door. Pulling it out, he looked at the caller ID. Abby. When he answered, she sounded strange, not her usual excited self.

"Gibbs. Can you come down here straight away?"

"On our way."

He opened the Observation room door, sticking just his head into the room. "Abs has something for us. Let's go." He left the door open, knowing that Tony and Ziva would be right on his heels.

Abby was watching for them as they got off the elevator, her expression unusually grave.

"Thought I told you to get some sleep, Abby." Gibbs commented.

She looked a little guilty. "You did, but...this was more important, Gibbs. Adams' basement bombs, they were bothering me. Why would he use so much explosive on one room?"

"Maybe because he's a homicidal maniac, Abs" Tony interjected. Abby ignored him.

"But then, I figured it out. He wasn't trying to booby trap the place, Gibbs. Well, he was, but it wasn't the only thing he was trying to do." Seeing Gibbs' impatience rise she hurried to get to the point. "He was trying to destroy what else he'd been building, so we couldn't find it. It was a bomb Gibbs, a really big one. And that's not all. When I searched his laptop I found these." She hit a button and sent an image to the plasma.

"Building plans" Tony commented.

"What building, Abs?" Gibbs asked.

"This one. NCIS headquarters."


	20. Chapter 20

Typically, Gibbs was the first one to recover from the shock. While the rest of the team remained dumbstruck he turned and hurried out of the lab. Fear and anger sent adrenaline pumping through his veins. Exiting the elevator, he strode quickly through the squad room and raced up the stairs to the mezzanine, taking them two at a time. He brushed past the secretary that tried to prevent him, barged through the steel clad door into Vance's office and let his momentum carry him to the desk.

"We have a potential threat to this agency" he began without preamble. He had the Director's full attention, he could see that. Even the ever present toothpick was still. "Adams was building a bomb in his basement, a big one. And Abby found plans of this building on his computer."

Alarm brought Vance to his feet. "Where is he?"

"Downstairs, in Interrogation." Gibbs replied.

Quickly Vance left the office, taking the stairs down from the mezzanine with Gibbs close behind him. Tony was hanging up his desk phone as they entered the bullpen. "I checked with Adams' CO. There's been no other report of missing munitions, at least not in the last 6 months."

"I am calling the other bases in the area, in case he got explosives from elsewhere." Ziva chimed in.

"How did he get the building plans?"

Both Tony and Ziva looked at Gibbs in silence.

"Anyone?" he demanded.

"I think I can answer that, Gibbs." The voice came from behind him. As one they turned to see Abby standing near McGee's desk.

...

"Adams is a world class hacker, Gibbs. But surprisingly, he's not real big on hiding any of the information he accesses. From what I can tell, he got the building plans the same way he got access to Lieutenant Francis' medical records. He fooled the system into thinking he was somebody else who had the clearance to get into those files. It's actually pretty neat." She looked away from her computer screen, noticing the similar expression on Gibbs and Vance's faces. "Or not. Anyway, as good as he is, he still left traces on the lockup computer. I'm betting we'd find the same traces on computer banks in Central Files." She saw Vance's scowl and knew he was considering the effects of another security breach. "It looks like he used the C4 out of the big bomb he was making in the booby trap bombs in his basement."

"He knew we were coming for him." Gibbs commented.

"How much C4 did he have?" Vance asked.

"A little under two blocks."

Vance shook his head. "It's not enough." Gibbs gave Abby a questioning look.

"The Director's right, Gibbs. That amount of C4 isn't enough to blow up a building like this one. And if you wanted to take down the building, you wouldn't make one big bomb, you'd make a bunch of little ones."

"He wasn't after the building. He was after people." Gibbs observed. They fell silent, contemplating the horror of what they'd discovered.

"You said he accessed Lieutenant Francis' medical records."

"Uh-huh. I was working on an idea McGee had. When Cassidy's team out of the Pentagon was killed, the terrorists used a text to speech program to make calls to the hotline."

Gibbs nodded. "They poured hot latex down his throat to make a model."

"That's right; except Adams needed Francis alive, so he tapped into his medical records instead. Francis reported to the base medical facilities at Quantico 2 weeks ago with persistent headaches; they did a CT scan to rule out anything hinky. I found a text to speech program on Adams' laptop. Ironically it's the same one that the terrorists used when Cassidy was killed."

"Nice work Abs." Gibbs turned to leave, and then stopped. "When did Adams access the building plans?"

She checked. "Yesterday."

"Thanks."

Vance reached past Abby and picked up the lab phone, pressing the speed dial marked 'Emergency'

"This is the Director. Initiate the emergency evacuation procedure immediately. This is not a drill."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Ok, after this chapter, you guys are going to hate me. You'll understand why in a few minutes lol. This is the last of the chapters I have saved up, and it's going to be a couple of days before I get another one posted. Tomorrow I'm heading to another store to help out for a day, then back to work at mine on Thursday, so I'm not going to have time to write. **

**Enjoy! F.  
**

Tony would always remember the hours that followed with a sense of unreality. In all the years he'd been working at NCIS, he'd never seen the building evacuated.

Like everyone else on the floor, he looked up quickly as the emergency klaxon sounded. Both he and Ziva were still making phone calls, trying to track if there were any missing explosives. He kept getting the run around from commanding officers that either didn't know or wouldn't admit to any missing ordnance; from the sound of it, Ziva was working one of her many contacts. He saw Gibbs and the Director re-enter the squad floor, followed by two of the burliest MPs he'd ever seen. He slammed the phone down, hanging up on another less than helpful officer, then went over to meet them.

"Boss; what's happening?"

"We're evacuating; find out about missing explosives?"

"No-one's giving me a straight answer, Boss."

Gibbs nodded. "Haven't got time now." He strode over to his desk, pulling out his gun and badge. "This bastard's after soft targets. Tony, go and get Abby. Ziva, get Ducky and Palmer. He doesn't get another one of my people. Meet at the front entrance."

"Gibbs, what about Adams?" Tony asked.

Gibbs jerked his head in the direction of the MPs. "That's why they're here. Go!"

Tony pushed his way through the growing trickle of people heading towards the stairs. He knew you weren't supposed to use the elevator in an emergency. Shrugging, he decided he'd take his chances. Soon the stairwell would be so crowded with Agency employees that it would be impossible to move through there quickly.

Reaching the lab, he found Abby shutting down her equipment frantically, anxiety and fear obvious in her face and her movements.

"Tony! What are you doing here? You should be evacuating."

"Gibbs sent me down here to get you, Abs" he reassured her. "Come on, we don't have much time." He half towed, half dragged her to the elevator, ignoring her protests. He saw her safely to the main entrance, leaving her with Ducky, Palmer and Ziva, searching the crowd. He couldn't see Gibbs anywhere; something felt hinky about this, and he needed to let the Boss know.

He struggled against the flow of evacuees, fighting his way back into the building.

...

Finally reaching the stairwell, he forced his way upwards, making the other people on the stairs give way to him. Entering the squad room floor, the first person he saw was Adams, in handcuffs, being escorted by the two MPs he'd seen before. Outwardly, Adams appeared calm, a small half smile playing on his lips and a strange light in his eyes. Tony didn't like the look of that; it puzzled him for a moment.

With a sick feeling of horror, he recognised the gleam in Adams' eyes for what it was. Glee. His mind screamed a warning. _Something isn't right here!_ He spun, looking for Gibbs. Catching a glimpse through the crowd of frightened federal employees, he pushed and shoved his way through to his boss.

"Gibbs, this is a bad idea." Gibbs just gave him the famous stare, so he hastened to explain. "Adams is after people, right? So what if he's rigged the evacuation area?"

He saw the Boss' eyes widen as the idea took hold, heard the sharp intake of breath.

"The first evacuees; they'll just be reaching the evacuation area."

...

Pushing, shoving, yelling, Tony and Gibbs fought their way through the crowd, trying to get people to turn back, to get away from the evacuation site. As they got closer, they could see they were fighting a losing battle; hundreds of people from NCIS and the buildings nearby were milling around the designated evacuation area. They redoubled their efforts, Gibbs pulling the Director aside as they reached him. Tony couldn't hear what was said over the noise of so many frightened people, but it was effective; Vance joined them in urging people back towards the buildings. With a sinking feeling of running out of time, Tony did his best to get people to listen, to head back towards relative safety.

They were too late; with only roughly a third of the evacuees sent back, there was a flash of light and an ear shattering roar from the middle of the assembly area.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: So, did you like the cliffhanger? Here's another chapter, it took a little longer than I'd hoped but it's been one crazy week. Enjoy! F.**

Elaine didn't broach the subject of Abby again until they'd left Tim for the night. Once they were on their way in the hire car and heading towards Waverley University, she turned to Sarah in the backseat.

"So, what is really going on with Abby and Tim?"

Sarah sighed. "They both say they're just friends."

"Uh-huh." Elaine sounded sceptical. "She calls him Timmy, and he lets her. The last time he let any of us call him Timmy, he was in elementary school."

Sarah nodded. "She's been at the hospital every day as well, and"

Suddenly Matthew hushed them from the driver's seat. He'd been searching through radio frequencies for a station he could listen to, and settled on an all news station. Now he turned the volume up, catching the last part of the story that had attracted his attention.

"_To recap, there's been a report of a large explosion at the Washington Navy Yard. Authorities are refusing to confirm or deny the cause of the explosion, but it is believed to have been a possible terrorist attack..."_

A grim expression on his face, Matthew made a hurried U-turn and headed back in the direction of the hospital.

...

They arrived to find Tim leaning shakily against the desk in the nurses' station, obviously in pain and equally obviously frantic to get out of the hospital. He was demanding to be released when they reached him, insisting that they let him sign himself out.

He shook his parents off when they tried to convince him to stay, telling them "They're my friends; I should be there. What if they're hurt?"

Feeling helpless, Sarah stood back and watched them try to talk Tim into getting back into bed. With a jolt, she suddenly remembered Gibbs giving her his number after Jeff was killed, telling her to call him if she needed anything. She'd stored it in her phone and half forgotten about it. Pulling her phone out of her pocket now, she took a few steps down the hall and dialled the number, hoping he'd pick up.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs, it's Sarah... Sarah McGee. I need your help."

...

Gibbs stared at his cell phone in exasperation. He didn't have time for this right now; he needed to find Abby, and Palmer. They'd both gone missing in the confusion after the blast. But, he reasoned McGee's little sister wouldn't have called him if it wasn't important. So he controlled his impulse to snap.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Tim... He heard about the explosion, he's trying to sign himself out of the hospital. He won't listen to us."

Gibbs cursed under his breath. There was no way he'd be able to convince McGee to stay where he was if he knew Abby was missing. "Put McGee on the phone."

He could hear a brief argument on the other end, and then his agent's voice came over the line.

"Boss."

"McGee, what the hell are you thinking?"

"Boss, I need to get down there. You might need my help."

"Uh-huh." Gibbs was frankly disbelieving. "What I need you to do, McGee, is stay where you are. I'm not risking you getting hurt any more than you already are."

"Gibbs-"

"Stay there, McGee. That's an order. We'll keep you posted."

He severed the connection, hoping he'd managed to keep McGee where he needed to be. He turned and surveyed the scene. Smoke and dust kicked up by the explosion still hung in the air; through the cloud he could see Ducky tending to one of the many wounded. He kept hoping he'd see Palmer doing the same thing, or Abby rushing through the crowd. He'd sent Tony and Ziva off around the edge of the assembly area, searching for his missing people. Not normally one to be afraid, he steeled himself for what he'd have to do next. He'd have to make his way closer to the centre of the explosion; he'd seen the effect of mines when he was serving in the Corp, and it was never a pretty sight. He threaded his way through the crowd of frightened, shocked people, making his way towards the epicentre. Behind him he could hear the teams of EMTs making their way to the people that needed them most. He did his best to direct them to the worst of the injured he came across. As he got closer to the shallow crater the bomb had left, the injuries he saw got worse until finally he started to come across people that were ominously still, and others that were obviously dead. The shrapnel with which Adams had packed his claymore had torn through the crowd here and some of the dead resembled mincemeat. He swallowed against the gorge that rose in his throat and turned away, deciding he didn't want to see Abby or Palmer if they were in this condition.

"Agent Gibbs!"

He heard his name called and swung his head, searching for the source. Palmer was waving frantically at him from a distance, trying to support Abby. She was sagging against Palmer's side, and one side of her face was covered in blood.


	23. Chapter 23

He rushed to Palmer's side, quickly draping one of Abby's arms around his neck, taking some of her weight off the younger man. She was conscious but dazed, seemingly unable to make her legs work. He looked around for an EMT; while he could see multiple teams, they were all occupied. She needed medical attention; blood was flowing fairly freely across her face, dripping down her chin and onto her skull t-shirt. Purposefully, half carrying, half dragging Abby, they made their way through the crowd towards the last place Gibbs had seen Ducky.

Ducky was standing, surveying the crowd now that the EMTs had arrived. He turned as they approached, his grim expression changing to concern as he took in Abby's appearance. They lowered her carefully to the ground, stepping back to let Ducky tend to her.

"What happened?" Gibbs questioned Palmer.

"I don't know... we got separated in the crowd. I found her like this." Palmer told him, obviously shaken by what he'd seen. Gibbs nodded, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Tony and Ziva. Seeing a mass of dark curly hair that could only be Ziva's, he gave a piercing whistle. It earned him black looks from surrounding people, but it had the desired effect; they turned and started making their way purposefully to him. He studied them as they approached. Ziva's face was carefully expressionless, only the eyes showing her anger, while Tony was trying to mask shock and incipient panic.

"Couldn't find them, Boss" Tony started, then noticed Palmer standing next to Gibbs. "Oh."

"Ducky's got Abby." He felt a touch on his elbow and turned. "How's she doing, Duck?"

"I've stopped most of the bleeding; though the scalp wound really does need stitching. I could do that here, but..."

"But what, Duck?"

"She's showing signs of a mild concussion, Jethro. She'll need to be under observation at least overnight, and with everything else going on..." the elderly medical examiner trailed off. Gibbs understood; with the blast happening in the Navy Yard, anyone killed was under Ducky's jurisdiction. He and Palmer would be extremely busy for several days to come. "She'd better go to Bethesda." Gibbs nodded.

"Tony."

"Yeah Boss?"

"Take Abby to Bethesda; she'll probably be in overnight. And fill McGee in while you're there."

"Does Probie know about all this?" Tony's gesture took in the nightmarish scene in front of them.

"Uh-huh. His sister called me. Go on, get moving."

...

Gibbs watched as Tony helped Abby into the car; he'd brought the Mustang around as close as he could. He caught the wince of pain that his surrogate daughter tried to hide as Tony closed the passenger door, and something snapped inside him. This wasn't supposed to happen. So many people had been injured or killed simply because they'd come to work today, and now he had two of his team- his family- in the hospital. He looked around wildly, searching until he found what he was looking for. Striding forward, he didn't notice the crowd parting before him as they saw the expression on his face. Smoothly he pulled the SIG he carried from its holster, pointing it directly at Adams' forehead before the MPs had time to react. Dimly he was pleased to see the look of joy on Adams' face disappear, to be replaced by naked fear.

"Why?" he asked.

Adams remained silent, his gaze locked on the barrel pointed at his head. Slowly, deliberately, Gibbs cocked the pistol. He heard one of the MPs say something, but he couldn't tell what; all his attention was on the man in front of him.

"Why?" he asked again. Adams swallowed; then the look of fear on his face twisted, becoming fury.

"Payback. You think you're so good, you self-righteous NCIS scum! My brother is dead because of you!"

Suddenly Gibbs felt someone pulling on his arm, dragging the pistol down, making him lose his aim. Simultaneously, the MPs started dragging their prisoner away as he continued to hurl abuse at Gibbs. "I wish I'd killed more of you, you bastards! He was my brother!" His yells were soon drowned out by the press of people around them.

Gibbs sighed, relaxing from his tense position. Re-holstering his weapon, he turned to see who had stopped him from committing murder. Ziva stood by his side, her eyes dark. "He is not worth it, Gibbs" she told him simply.

...

Ziva saw the expression on Gibbs' face change; saw it go from mere anger to unbridled rage. She moved to catch him, stop him from doing something he'd regret later; but he was too fast for her. He was gone, swallowed up by the crowd. Cursing in Hebrew, she pushed her way through; the people that had moved instinctively aside for Gibbs would not do so for her. She reached the MPs in time to hear one say "Easy, Gibbs." Gibbs clearly didn't hear them; she grabbed hold of his arm, pulling it way and preventing him from taking the shot. She watched as the tension left his frame and he re-holstered his gun. "He is not worth it, Gibbs" she said, unable to think of any other way of putting it. Only his eyes showed that he'd heard her and understood, flicking towards her.

"I'm going to check on Abby" he said abruptly, wheeling and heading towards the parking garage. Shrugging, she broke into a jog to catch up to him.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Ok, this story has gotten a *lot* longer than I anticipated. I'm getting towards the end of the casefic part, and then the timeline is going to get a little...screwy. Bear with me! :)**

By the time they arrived at Bethesda, Abby and Tony were nowhere to be seen. A quick query at the triage desk, assisted by Gibbs' trademark stare when they obviously didn't want to give out any information, revealed that Abby had already been called from the waiting room and was being examined. The triage nurse opened the self-locking door into the emergency ward; Ziva entered, looking at Gibbs quizzically when he didn't follow.

"Stay with her, Ziva" he ordered. She nodded, puzzled, as the door between them closed.

Gibbs headed for the elevator that would take him upstairs to Orthopaedics; he'd told McGee that they'd keep him posted.

...

After his conversation with Gibbs, McGee had reluctantly returned to his room. He did his best to appear calm, knowing his family was concerned. But as time passed with no word from Gibbs or the team, he got more and more worried. Watching the news on the TV in his room didn't help matters; information was sketchy at best, and he knew from experience that the news didn't always get things right.

He looked over as Gibbs entered the room, instantly fearful. Gibbs being at the hospital instead of at NCIS, with everything that was happening, could only mean one thing. Trying to keep his voice at a normal pitch, dreading the answer, he asked "Who?"

"Abby."

A thousand thoughts and memories swirled through his mind, the uppermost being denial- she couldn't be dead, not Abby; dimly, he heard Gibbs' voice saying "Easy, Tim. She's ok, it's only minor."

It took a moment for the words to sink in.

"She's ok?" he asked, his voice not sounding like him.

"Just a cut and maybe a mild concussion." Gibbs stressed the word mild.

"Where is she?"

"Downstairs, in Emergency. Tony and Ziva are with her."

He closed his eyes as a shudder of relief passed through him. Reopening them, he looked to his parents and sister. "Could you guys give us a minute, please?"

He half expected an argument, at least from Sarah, but they nodded in agreement and quietly left, his dad shutting the door behind them. Once he was reasonably sure they were out of earshot, he asked "How-how bad is it?"

He saw the muscles of Gibbs' jaw tighten, and knew it wasn't good news. "Hard to tell yet, McGee. I gotta check on Abby."

...

Left alone, McGee fretted. He hated being stuck in the hospital in the first place; knowing that Abby was downstairs in the Emergency room made him resent it even more. He knew that people had been killed at the Navy Yard; knew it from the moment he'd seen the news on ZNN. Adams had been after people from the beginning, and Gibbs had confirmed it. He needed to see Abby for himself, to make sure that Gibbs wasn't glossing over her injuries, but he couldn't walk that far- just making it to the nurses' station earlier had been a painful experience. And it sounded like the nurses were too busy with other patients to take him downstairs in the wheelchair. So he waited impatiently for someone to return with news, but no one did.

He was on the point of trying to make his own way down to see Abby when the door was flung open and Abby herself was wheeled into the room, followed by Gibbs, Tony and Ziva. Abby was sleeping; the bandage across one side of her head gave her an almost comical appearance. The orderly manoeuvred the second bed skilfully past Tim's and up against the wall, locking the wheels before leaving. McGee glanced at his boss; the faintest of smiles was evident on his face, and McGee knew he'd somehow managed to pull strings to get this arranged.

"They've admitted Abby overnight for observation" Gibbs explained. "She's got a mild concussion, so you're gonna have to wake her up every hour, make sure she's lucid." He went on to detail exactly what Tim would have to do when he woke her; Tim listened intently, still watching Abby.

...

After making sure McGee understood his instructions, Gibbs turned to his remaining agents. "Come on; we've got work to do."

"Boss, are you sure? Just it's getting kinda late and there's not really a lot we can do right now- "

Gibbs cut DiNozzo off. "You can get a confession out of Adams." He gestured for them to leave the room.

"I thought Ziva said you'd already gotten a confession, Boss."

"Confession was tainted, DiNozzo. Come on, let's go."

Before following Tony and Ziva down the hallway, Gibbs took one last look at Abby and McGee. At least he knew his people were safe here.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: This chapter is short; sorry to those of you that were looking forward to a longer one, but when I tried to expand it, it lost its impact. **

**On a different note, I just realised I've been writing this for 2 months now. How crazy! That makes it my longest running story. So thank you to everyone who has kept reading for so long. I appreciate it. F.**

Getting Adams to confess wasn't quite the challenge that Tony had been hoping for. After what he'd done to McGee, after trying to kill so many of his colleagues, Tony wanted to sweat the confession out of him, tie him in knots until he broke. He'd been put back into the holding cells once the building had been cleared; Tony had him brought upstairs to Interrogation. He was intending to leave him there for a while and let him stew. But Adams had other ideas. As if a dam wall had burst, Adams was singing like the proverbial canary. Tony signalled frantically for the Observation room tech to start recording, not wanting to miss anything significant, then made his way into the Interrogation room.

Adams had a manic gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before the bombing. Quietly and calmly, he recounted how he'd stolen the C4; how he'd tried to set up Lieutenant Francis; how he'd obtained more C4 through the black market to rig the bomb in the emergency assembly area. After a lengthy session in the Interrogation room, Tony emerged feeling faintly sick. Ziva and Gibbs were waiting for him, leaning against the wall outside the room  
"He's some piece of work, Boss. He's proud of it all."

Ziva nodded. "I have seen this before. He reminds me of some of the terrorists Mossad has captured."

Gibbs straightened up. "Come on; let's get these leads followed up."

...

"How's it going, Duck?"

"Slowly, Jethro." The elderly medical examiner glanced up from the cadaver he was working on. Behind the face shield, he looked tired and harried. Gibbs looked around. "Where's Palmer?"

"I sent him home. Poor young man was exhausted, as well as being rather shaken up." Gibbs nodded in understanding; he doubted the ME's assistant had seen anything like what had happened today.

"How many, Duck?"

"6 so far, Jethro. Not all of them from NCIS. One from legal, two from cybercrimes, one of the evidence technicians from downstairs, one visiting naval warrant officer and one John Doe. I'll need Abby to run his prints through AFIS when she returns."

"She'll be back tomorrow." Gibbs checked his watch. "Later today" he corrected himself. "Tony's gonna pick her up."

"That reminds me, Jethro. You need to keep a close eye on Anthony. I doubt that yesterday's efforts were enough to assuage his guilt."

"Guilt over what, Ducky? He saved a lot of lives yesterday."

"He still blames himself for Timothy's injuries, Jethro. And I doubt that Abby getting hurt will have helped matters."

...

Tony looked blearily around the darkened bullpen. Gibbs had disappeared almost an hour ago; at first they'd assumed he was going for coffee, but now Tony suspected he'd gone to see Ducky. Ziva was asleep, her head pillowed on her arms; and McGee's desk was unoccupied, the desk lamp off. Tony's gaze lingered on the empty desk. He'd failed McGee; otherwise that desk wouldn't be empty right now. And despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to prevent Adams from killing innocent people; and hurting Abby. He could barely keep his eyes open now; as he lay his head down on the desk, he wondered how McGee was going with Abby's hourly checks.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay in getting a chapter of this one out. I've been writing so much on 'Downfall' that my other stories got a little neglected. More soon :)**

Abby was possibly the worst patient ever, McGee decided as he clambered awkwardly back into bed. She'd never reacted well to being woken up, and having to wake her up every hour, on the hour, had made her grumpy and irritable. It hadn't been too bad the first few checks; but as it got closer to dawn, the lack of sleep was taking its toll on both of them. He lay his head back against the pillows, making sure he'd set an alarm before closing his eyes.

...

A strange sound woke Abby. She thought at first it was McGee's alarm, waking him to come and ask her more stupid questions. Then she realised the noise was human, not electronic. She swivelled her head carefully, not wanting to trigger a headache worse than the one she already had. As her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, she could see McGee tossing and turning. The strange noise came again, and she realised that it was Tim, whimpering in his sleep. She got unsteadily out of the bed, making her way to stand beside his. He had tears running down his face; it was obvious that he was having a nightmare. As she debated whether or not to wake him, he started shaking his head. The few words she caught pulled at her heartstrings. "Not Abby, no..."

She shook his good shoulder, wanting to stop whatever his mind was putting him through. He startled awake, looking frantically around the room and then relaxed when he saw her. "Abby- what are you doing up?"

"You were having a nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Come on; let's get you back into bed." He struggled up and guided her back to her side of the room.

She let him help her back into the hospital bed and closed her eyes, knowing that he'd stay beside her if he thought she wasn't going to go back to sleep. He was protective of her; it was one of his more endearing traits. She waited until she heard the creak of his bed as he lay down before she opened her eyes. The nightmare he'd been having was obviously a bad one; McGee was a lot tougher than he looked, and she'd rarely seen him with tears in his eyes. She wondered what he'd been dreaming of, and how often he'd been having nightmares. His physical wounds were healing; but now she started to worry about his mental ones. She needed to talk to Ducky when she returned to headquarters.

...

McGee crawled back into bed, feeling shivery and sick from the after effects of the nightmare. This one had been the worst one yet. It was bad enough that he constantly dreamt of his own death, but now he was dreaming of Abby's. The only people he was closer to in this world were related to him; seeing her sprawled on the ground, eyes wide and lifeless, was horrifying. He choked back an involuntary sob at the thought. He lay back against the pillows, turning his head so he could see Abby. He'd stay awake for the rest of the night if that's what it took; he didn't want to see her like that again.

...

Tony knocked on the door before swinging it wide and entering the room. Abby was leaning against McGee's pillows, his good arm around her shoulders. Tony took it in his stride; he'd long ceased to be surprised at them. They had a strange relationship, closer than friends but not quite romantic; the team had just learned to accept it. They both looked a little worse for wear; Tony put it down to the broken sleep, though McGee looked worse than Abby.

"I've come to spring you, Abs" he announced. "Morning, Probie."

"Hey Tony; I was just saying goodbye to McGee." Abby slid down off the bed. "Got your stuff?" Tony looked around. "Discharge papers?"

"Probably at the nurses' station." She disappeared out of the room; they could hear the buckles on her boots jingling down the hall.

"You two look cosy" Tony commented idly. He was surprised at McGee's reaction. "Don't start that, Tony. Abby and I are just friends." The words were vehement, almost angry.

"Calm down, McCranky."

McGee let out a frustrated breath. "Sorry, Tony. It's been a long night." He paused. "How bad is it?" Tony knew he was asking about the Yard. He shook his head. "It's pretty bad, McGee. They've found six bodies so far; Ducky's been working all night. And there's too much evidence for just Abby to handle, so the Director called in some favours and the FBI lab's helping out. The Director also borrowed some lab techs."

McGee winced. "Abby's not going to like that. So who's gonna tell her?" Tony gave him a speculative look. "No. No way, DiNozzo."

"Come on, Probie. She's gotta know before I get her back to headquarters."  
"Not gonna happen, Tony." They both turned as the door opened; an orderly came in, pushing a wheelchair. "Besides, I can't- I'll be late for physio." He smirked at Tony as he settled in the wheelchair. "Good luck."


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Ok, from here on the timeline is going to get a little hinky. I cannot continue to write this fic on a day to day timeline for the rest of the story, otherwise it will get way too slow. The alternative is to finish the story at this chapter, then continue to write the rest of what I want as sequels. Anyway, enjoy. F.**

"Gibbs." The pleading voice, just on the edge of whiny, broke into his concentration. He looked up to see Abby standing in front of his desk. She was paler than usual and still had a dressing on her head, but otherwise looked like her normal self. "Make them go away."

He'd been expecting this. Abby worked alone and always had, except for one ill-chosen assistant. When he thought of how Chip had tried to frame DiNozzo and kill Abby, he could sympathise with Abby's point of view. But this wasn't a normal circumstance; there was too much evidence for one lab and one forensic scientist, even one as brilliant as Abby. "Can't, Abs" he told her as he stood. There were some details he needed to check with Ducky; he wanted this investigation to be as thorough as humanly possible.

"But Gibbs..."

"Just ignore them, Abby" he told her as he pressed the button for the elevator.

...

Abby grumbled to herself on the way back to her lab. She hadn't really expected Gibbs to be able to get rid of the lab techs she'd been stuck with, but... she really hated working with other people. Not in her lab. She felt awkward and hemmed in, and they threw her off her concentration. Except McGee, she amended mentally. The thought reminded her of his nightmare of the night before. She needed to talk to Ducky, but she knew the ME was exhausted from his efforts overnight. She chewed on her bottom lip as she thought it over. McGee obviously didn't want it known that he was having nightmares, and as much as she supposed it was normal to have them after what he'd been through, she was worried. Tony had her concerned as well; she'd noticed how subdued he was on the ride back from the hospital. This case was taking its toll on all of them.

...

Gibbs watched covertly from beside the stairs leading to the mezzanine. He was worried about Tony's haggard appearance and suspicious about the large amount of work he was getting done. So here he was, standing motionless in the darkened squad room waiting to see if he was right. Soon his patience was rewarded; the elevator dinged softly and Tony exited, heading straight for his desk. Gibbs checked his watch. 0300 hours. They'd left at close to 2300 hours; not enough time for Tony to have gotten any decent sleep. He moved out of the shadows, startling his senior agent.

"Boss... What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, DiNozzo." He moved closer to Tony's desk. "This was not your fault, Tony."

He watched the younger man's face begin to crumple before he controlled himself. "I should have stopped him, Gibbs. I should have known- "

"How? I thought he was after the building; hell, we all did." He paused, leaning over the desk so he was at eye level with his agent. "McGee's injuries, Keating's stupidity; those aren't your fault either. You saved a lot of lives three days ago. Think about that instead."

He was pleased to see Tony sit up a little straighter as his words sunk in. He nodded, then turned to leave. "Go home, Tony" he threw over his shoulder, knowing that he'd gotten through.

...

As the days progressed, things slowly got back to normal, at least outwardly. After a week, the only visible sign of the devastation caused by Adams' bomb was a charred crater in the otherwise pristine grounds of the Navy Yard.

The Director had practically forced Ducky to take 2 days off after his mammoth effort autopsying the victims. On his return, Abby had visited him and told him about McGee's nightmare; she was relieved to hear it was a common reaction to trauma, at least at first. She missed the concerned frown that creased his brow after she turned to leave.

It had taken her two days to identify John Doe. They'd assumed that he'd been a member of the military at first until AFIS didn't bring up any results. Running his fingerprints through the criminal databases had the same answer. She'd switched to DNA matching instead, finally getting an ID from a tissue donor database. It turned out that he'd been on a guided tour of the Yard, and had simply gotten separated from the group. With the addition of three people who had died from their wounds in hospital, the death toll from Adams' attack stood at 9. It was widely accepted that it would have been higher if Tony and Gibbs hadn't succeeded in turning so many people back from the assembly point.

...

McGee smoothed the sleeve of his black suit for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He still couldn't extend his arm enough to get it through the sleeve properly; instead, his arm was in a special sling designed to relieve the pressure on his shoulder. Abby and Sarah had fussed over him, draping the empty sleeve just so and pinning the black-banded NCIS badge to his jacket. The bandages had been taken off a few days ago, along with his stitches, but his shoulder was misshapen from the scarring and the reconstruction and the jacket wouldn't sit right. Finally he gave up and walked out of the room to the hallway where Abby waited for him.

It was two weeks to the day since the explosion at the Navy Yard and a memorial service was being held for the nine people who'd been killed in the blast. Ever since Abby had told him about the service a week ago, he'd been asking his doctor for permission to go. Yesterday he'd been given the good news; he was allowed out on day release. Abby had volunteered to pick him up, but he'd held firm on one point; she was to drive his car. There was just something wrong about arriving at a memorial service in her hearse. Luckily she was one of the very few people in the world that he trusted with his beloved Porsche.

...

McGee recognised that the memorial service was well attended, but he really only registered the presence of five people once he and Abby arrived at the Yard; the remainder of Gibbs' team, plus Ducky and Palmer. He missed them all; they'd visited but it wasn't the same. He took his place next to Tony, returning the senior agent's restrained half smile, then turned his attention to the service.


	28. Chapter 28

Gibbs hated funerals and memorial services; it came from having to attend so many of them. The fact that none of the dead this time were close to him didn't matter. They always brought back memories that he'd tried his hardest to forget. Whether he knew each person or not, they were innocent bystanders, killed for nothing more than revenge. And if it wasn't for Tony's impatience, they'd be mourning the loss of one of his team. Again. His team was his family, and he'd lost more family members than he cared to think about. He took a sideways glance at McGee, making sure his youngest surrogate son was coping ok. He'd been surprised to see the silver Porsche pull up- it was less than 3 weeks since he'd been injured, and he'd doubted that the doctors would let McGee out of the hospital. Then he hid a half smile. McGee could be incredibly stubborn in his quiet way; he probably would have signed himself out if they hadn't let him go.

After the service he dismissed his team, knowing that they'd gather at the usual bar. It had become a tradition, the quiet gathering of just the team, Abby, Ducky and Palmer. Usually a little too much alcohol was drunk, but on occasions like these he overlooked the odd sore head the next morning.

He was the last to arrive at the bar in Georgetown; they'd taken a table in the back, and there was a glass of bourbon sitting in front of one of the two empty seats, between Ducky and Tony. The other empty seat was to McGee's left; Abby's doing, no doubt. She was curiously protective of his youngest field agent, and it was just like her to make sure no one had the chance to jar his injured side. The mood at the table was subdued; Tony and Ziva were talking to Abby, and judging by the avid look on Tony's face, he was asking her about McGee's Porsche. McGee had steadfastly refused to let anyone else drive it until today. On the other side, Ducky was asking McGee about his physiotherapy, with Palmer interjecting the odd comment. Gibbs caught Ducky's eye as he sat down and nodded, knowing he had Ducky to thank for the bourbon. He was content to be able to sit and watch his team for a few minutes. This was how it should be, all of them together. They'd had a tough few weeks; some more than others, but all of them had been affected by Adams' bombing rampage. Abby and Palmer had both worked in closely with Lisa, the evidence tech who been killed; McGee had worked with Thompson when he'd been stationed in Cybercrimes.

The two he was most concerned about were Tony and McGee; Tony was slowly getting over his guilt, but McGee still had a long hard road ahead of him. This was the one thing Gibbs wouldn't be able to pull strings for to keep him on the team; not for an injury like this. Idly he wondered what McGee would do if he couldn't get his field agent status back, then mentally chastised himself for the negative thought. Ducky asked him a question then, and he turned his attention to the older man.

...

McGee and Abby leaving to return to the hospital was the signal for the gathering to break up. They drove back to Bethesda in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Something McGee had seen in Palmer's face at the bar had worried him. He'd been discussing his physiotherapy regime with Ducky, with Palmer asking an occasional question. That hadn't bothered him. When the conversation moved to his chances of regaining enough movement to rejoin the team, however, he'd caught the look of scepticism that Palmer hadn't been able to hide. Jimmy was the least practised of any of them at hiding what they didn't want seen; now he had to wonder, did the rest of the team believe he wasn't going to make it back? Was he fooling himself even trying?


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Ok I know it's been ages since I updated this. The last few weeks have been absolutely crazy. I've almost finished this story (yay!) and I have the first couple of chapters of a new one written- but I'm not posting it til this is done. **

**Anyway, enjoy! F.**

Ducky made his way down the familiar halls of Bethesda Naval Hospital. Since McGee was injured a little over a month ago, he'd developed the habit of visiting him after work had finished for the night. He didn't make it here every day; not like Abby, who, as far as he was aware, had not missed a single night since McGee was admitted. But he made the trip as often as he could. His frequent trips were partly due to a concern over McGee's mental health. The severity of McGee's nightmares had worried the elderly medical examiner, and his behaviour since the memorial service had only increased that worry.

At first he'd thought that McGee's unusual quietness had stemmed from grief; he'd worked closely with Thompson in his months with the Cybercrime unit. On top of that, McGee could be quite a sensitive person, and it would be like him to grieve for the people killed as a result of Adams' obsession. But it soon became apparent that that wasn't the case. Tim was quiet, withdrawn and a little depressed; but it wasn't grief. Ducky had seen McGee grieve, both when Kate had been murdered, and later with the loss of his close friend Jim Nelson. This was something else. Something was bothering the young agent, and no one seemed to be able to figure out what it was.

Ducky was grateful that McGee was alone when he entered his room. McGee was curiously afraid of showing anything that could be construed as weakness, more so than the rest of Gibbs' team, and particularly when any of the rest of the team was around. Ducky hoped that the younger man would be more likely to open up and talk about what was bothering him when no one else was around. He admitted it was a long shot; even Abby, with her constant presence by McGee's bed, hadn't managed to get him to talk. Not for the first time, Ducky wondered what drove Abby to spend so much time at the hospital. Was it just her rather fierce protective instincts that surfaced when one of her friends was injured? Or was it something else?

He settled into the chair next to McGee's bed and started filling him in on the latest developments on the Adams' case. Tony and Ziva were having trouble tracing where Adams had gotten the explosives he used in the bomb he'd planted in the Navy Yard; there was a chance that the explosives had come from an international weapons ring. As he spoke, he watched McGee closely, gauging his reactions. He replied in monosyllables, clearly preoccupied by his own thoughts. Seeing that McGee wasn't going to add anything, Ducky changed the subject to McGee's recovery, and was rewarded by seeing the flash of self doubt that the younger man tried to hide. When he got up to leave, McGee stopped him at the door.

"Ducky, do you think I won't make it back to the team?"

The question was casual, almost offhand, but as Ducky turned to face McGee, he could see that his eyes were troubled; there was no trace of the determination he'd seen there when they were talking after the memorial services. He could only think of one thing that could have changed that.

"Who said that?"

McGee shifted his gaze, confirming Ducky's suspicions.

"Timothy, who told you that you won't make it back?"

McGee sighed. "Palmer. He didn't say it" he hastened to explain. "He just... looked it."

Ducky walked back over to his bedside. "Timothy, how many times a week do you have physiotherapy?" He saw the puzzlement on the young agent's face as he responded. "Three times a week." Ducky nodded. "And how many times did you have physiotherapy at first?"

"Every day."

"Dear boy, do you think they would have decreased your physiotherapy if you weren't making progress?"

He watched as McGee put the pieces together in his mind and nodded again. "You're further along than most people after an injury this severe, Timothy. So do stop worrying."

He was relieved to see some of the tension leave McGee's frame as he stood and went back to the doorway. McGee's fervent "Thanks, Ducky" brought a smile to his face as he left.


	30. Chapter 30

After his conversation with Ducky, McGee threw himself into physiotherapy with renewed vigour. Palmer may not believe in him, but Ducky, and hopefully the rest of the team did- and that thought drove him on, pushing himself to his limits so far that his physiotherapist warned him against the dangers of trying to do too much too soon. He softened the rebuke by setting McGee a challenge.

"When you can dress yourself in your normal street clothes, we'll release you. Dress yourself without assistance" he stipulated. "You will still need to attend sessions three times a week, at least for now."

...

McGee practised. And practised. What, he wondered, did they mean by 'normal street clothes?' Habitually, he wore an undershirt to work; was that classed as normal street clothes? Getting into a button up shirt was awkward, but do-able without help. Getting his bad arm up to pull a t-shirt down over his head was another matter. The first time he tried it was almost as bad as the first physiotherapy session. He laughed grimly at himself. The simplest of actions were suddenly so much harder since he opened that damn storage locker door.

When he finally managed to get the shirt over his head, he felt like crying.

...

Gibbs had rarely seen Abby so excited. Since she'd found out that McGee would be released from the hospital today, the normally energetic Goth had been like a miniature whirlwind. Even the continued presence of the FBI tech, Steve, in her lab failed to irritate her. He hid a grin as she bounced out of the elevator. Technically, she was supposed to have taken the day off, something she rarely did, but it was like her to have come in check test results or something.

"Gibbs, Gibbs! I got a hit on those chemical tracers!" Abby had been trying to trace the origin of the C4 Adams had used for the Navy Yard bombing. She hadn't had much luck until now, mostly because the traces of marker chemical were so faint; unusually so. "I figured out how to concentrate the marker chemical traces so that Major Mass Spec could finally get an accurate profile. It's Czech, Gibbs."

"Czech?"

She nodded. "It was part of a batch that went missing almost two years ago while it was being shipped. Since then, the same chemical signature has been found in bombs in Somalia, Israel and Iraq, Gibbs. It looks like someone has tried to remove the tracers from the stuff Adams had, but it's definitely the same batch."

"You're sure, Abs?"

She gave him a look. "Of course I'm sure, Gibbs."

"Ok. Go on, go and get McGee."

That brought the smile back to her face. He could hear her boots jingling on her way back to the elevator as he gave Tony and Ziva the new information.

...

Abby was impatient the whole way to Bethesda. She was supposed to pick McGee up from the hospital, and then take him home to his apartment where his family was waiting for him. In the month since he'd been injured, she'd become good friends with Sarah, and she'd volunteered to pick Tim up when he was released.

When she saw him waiting for her in front of the hospital, her face split into a wide smile. He was dressed casually in jeans and one of his favourite jackets; Sarah or his parents must have brought him clothes. For the first time since the bomb blast, he looked like her Timmy. Not caring that she was double parked, she pulled over and jumped out of the car.

"Timmy!"

"Hey Abs." He grinned at her as he stepped back from the hug she gave him.

"Ready to go home?"

"You have no idea."

She hovered indecisively as they got to her car; she didn't know if she should try and help him or not. He caught her eye and gave her a knowing look, then opened the door and climbed in. Relieved, she went around to the driver's side and got back in the car.

...

It was good to be out of the hospital, even with the moment of awkwardness when Abby picked him up. He figured he had to get used to that. For now, at least, he was a semi-invalid, and people were going to try and help him even when he didn't need it. He'd tried to be subtle about rejecting Abby's help, and he hoped she'd get the hint. She probably would; Abby was one of the smartest people he'd ever met.

His family, however, was another matter. Sarah seemed to recognise his need for independence, being so independent herself, but his mother kept trying to assist him to do things that he could easily do for himself. He tolerated it for now, knowing that it was her way of showing how worried she'd been about him.

Overall, he was relieved when they finally left, late in the evening. He wanted nothing more than to take a decent shower and sleep in his own bed. But first, he had a phone call to make.

Picking up his cell phone, he unlocked it and selected the contact he wanted. He waited impatiently for the call to be picked up.

"Yeah. Gibbs."

"Boss, it's McGee..."

**A/N: Ok, I have absolutely no idea if its possible to remove the chemical tracer from C4; I tried to research it, but I ended up at some very scary websites and I thought I'd stop before I ended up on a watch list somewhere lol.**


	31. Chapter 31

_6 weeks later..._

After his conversation with Gibbs, McGee tried to settle into a routine at home, but failed; Gibbs had given him the okay to go back to work, and a mixture of anticipation and boredom was making it hard for him to settle to anything.

The date set for his return to NCIS- on light duties- was fast approaching. For now, he had to be content with only working 2 days a week; his physiotherapy schedule just wouldn't allow for him to work more days than that, and he didn't want to jeopardise his chances of recovery.

He hadn't told anyone when he was returning to work, not even his family. Gibbs had questioned his readiness, and he didn't want everyone else reacting the same way. He'd finally convinced Gibbs that it wasn't going to hurt his shoulder any more to sit at a desk at work than it would at home, and he was quite frankly going stir crazy. It was almost as bad now that he was home as it had been in the hospital- the only difference was at home he had a few more distractions. But even those were frustrating him. He didn't want to be stuck at home when he knew how overworked the team was.

So he was in an irritable state of mind as he got out of the shower after yet another physio session and began the long process of towelling off. It was small, everyday things like this that annoyed him the most about his lack of mobility; you didn't notice how much you used your shoulder, he thought, until you couldn't move it properly any more. He paused as he awkwardly dried his hair; he thought for a moment that he'd heard a door close in his apartment. Pulling on his trousers, he exited the bathroom just in time to come face to face with Sarah.

"Tim. I was just coming to find you."

He saw her eyes dart to his shoulder. He knew without looking that the scars that made it misshapen would be vivid red and purple, courtesy of the hot shower, which made them look worse than they already were, and he knew that Sarah hadn't seen the mess that the shrapnel had made of his arm. But nothing could have prepared him for the way she reacted. He watched as her mouth twisted with something akin to disgust, and saw the pity in her eyes.

It hurt, more than he thought it would. She was his little sister; if she reacted like this, how would everyone else? Swallowing hard, he picked up his shirt off the bed and pulled it on over his head hastily, trying to conceal the wince of pain as he moved his bad shoulder too fast.

"Tim..." Sarah's voice was apologetic; she must have seen the flash of pain he'd been unable to hide.

"It's ok" he reassured her. It wasn't, not really, but he didn't want her to see how much her recoiling from him had hurt. He racked his brain for something to say to cover the awkward moment.

"I'm going back to work next week" he blurted out; it was the only thing he could think of that would distract Sarah enough.

She stared at him for a long moment. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He rolled his eyes. This was exactly why he wasn't intending on telling anybody. "I can't just sit around here and do nothing, Sarah. They've still got a lot of work to do on the Adams case, and it's not like I'll be going back into the field, not yet" he pointed out.

"Have you told your team yet?"

He shook his head. "Only Gibbs. And you" he added. She cocked her head a little, giving him an odd look. "You haven't told Abby?"

He snorted. "Abby is almost as protective as Mum. I can imagine her reaction if she thinks it's too soon." He couldn't stop himself from picturing her reaction as he spoke; eyes narrowed, hands on her hips as she told him exactly what she thought. She wasn't exactly known for her restraint when one of the team put themselves in danger. Unconsciously he smiled. Sarah saw it and seized on it.

"What was that?" she asked suspiciously. Assuming a straight face hurriedly, he asked "What was what?"

"That smile."

"What smile?"

It was no good; he could see the pieces coming together in Sarah's mind.

"You're in love with her."

It was a statement, not a question. He didn't know why he admitted it; the emotional rollercoaster of the last couple of months must have had his guard down. "Yeah, Sarah, I am."

"Have you told her?"

"No, and I'm not going to."

"Tim-"she sounded exasperated as he cut her off. "I'm not going to tell her, Sarah. Abby does not feel the same way. And even if she did... I couldn't tell her. What woman would want me like this?"


	32. Chapter 32

As much as he tried not to dwell on it, Sarah's reaction had made something clear to McGee. The thought that he was now an object for pity and disgust had hovered in the back of his mind for several weeks, but every time it crossed his mind he'd been able to dismiss it.

Until now.

And with the thought came the crushing realisation that maybe what he'd said to Sarah was true. He'd said it without thinking, but what, after all, did he have to offer a woman? Particularly one as smart and energetic as Abby Scuito? No matter how hard he worked at it, his shoulder would never be whole again; right now he couldn't even give someone a proper hug. And his job security was tenuous at best, despite Vance's assurances.

He thrust those thoughts back to the back of his mind; they were too painful. He'd be glad to get back to work, even on light duties; at least then he'd have something else to think about.

...

As McGee still couldn't drive- his Porsche had a manual transmission and he couldn't make the gear changes just yet- Sarah volunteered to drop him to work on his first day back. It seemed to take forever to clear security and get onto the Yard, and the Marines manning the main gate looked grimmer than he'd ever seen them. He guessed that the attack at the Yard had led to the tightened security measures. He directed Sarah to the visitors' lot, remembering from his first visit to Headquarters how difficult it could be to find your way around. Thanking her, he pulled his pack out of the front seat and automatically slung it over his left shoulder, wincing as it protested. He shifted it quickly to his right shoulder; it felt awkward to carry it that way, and it kept slipping as he walked to Headquarters.

...

He looked up at the building in front of him. The NCIS headquarters wasn't a particularly imposing building, but that didn't make it any easier for him to go inside. He swallowed; he was more nervous to enter now than he was when he'd first come here. He'd specifically asked Gibbs not to let the team know he was starting back today in case he changed his mind, he'd managed to avoid letting it slip to Abby that he'd be here, and he'd gotten here before anyone else would be in so he could take the time to settle at his desk again. And see the look of surprise on their faces, he admitted to himself. Adjusting his pack across his right shoulder again, he walked across the road towards the main entrance. His first stop was down to Autopsy; he had to be cleared by Ducky before he could resume even light duties.

...

Ducky didn't take his eyes off the inventory checklists he was studying when he heard the automatic door.

"It's a little early, even for you, isn't it Jethro?" he asked without turning.

"I'm not Gibbs, sorry Ducky" came the apologetic reply. At the sound of the soft voice, Ducky spun quickly. "Timothy? What are you doing down here?"  
The young agent had a half smile on his face. "I was hoping you could clear me to go back to work."

Ducky gave him a shrewd glance. He was half inclined to protest that it was too early for Timothy to return, until he saw the determination and defiance in the younger man's eyes. It was clear that he intended to return today.

"I can't help but notice, Timothy, that you're carrying your backpack on the opposite shoulder. Pain?"

"A little" McGee admitted. "The pack puts pressure on it."

"Well, that's to be expected." He gestured to the nearest table. "Sit there, Timothy. Let's take a look at you."

...

After putting him through a battery of tests, including stretching exercises and an x-ray, Ducky finally cleared him for light duties. He was outlining exactly what he considered 'light' when the automatic doors opened, admitting Abby.

"Hey Duckman, have you seen- Timmy!"

At the sound of her voice McGee snatched up his shirt, attempting to cover the network of scars, but he wasn't quick enough. Faster than he thought possible, she rushed across the room and threw herself at him; he caught her awkwardly in the crook of his good arm, finding himself the recipient of the biggest Abby-hug he'd ever gotten. He gasped a little, so she released him, standing back and studying his shoulder and arm. Hesitantly he looked at her, not wanting to see the same mix of pity and revulsion he'd seen on Sarah's face when she'd seen his scars. He knew it was involuntary- the normal reaction of the healthy to the damaged- but it still hurt. So he was surprised to see nothing but sorrow in her eyes. Thoughtfully she reached out and lightly traced the worst of the scars; the one that had almost cost him his arm. He saw comprehension on her face as she realised how massive his injuries had been. "Is that why-" she began, cutting herself off like she was unable to finish the question. He nodded. "The only thing that stopped them was you" he told her. Rendered acutely uncomfortable, as always, by someone's scrutiny of his scars, he picked up his shirt from the table again, easing into it and awkwardly buttoning it up.

She gave herself a little shake, and then demanded "Are you back?"

"Sort of, Abs" he replied. "I'm not fit for field work yet."

"However, I have just cleared Timothy for light duties." Ducky broke in, his emphasis on the word 'light' leaving no one in doubt of how restricted McGee's activities would be. "If you have any problems, Timothy, do come and see me."

Giving McGee a moment to tuck his shirt in and make himself presentable again, Abby grabbed his good hand and dragged him out of Autopsy. "Come on Tim, the guys are going to be so surprised to see you!"


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Ok, here's a long overdue chapter of Choices! Sorry it's taken so long. For the record too (before I get the inevitable comments), I've included some McAbby in this chapter. Same as in the last couple of chapters, I've included it so I can explore Tim's feelings of not being a whole person due to his injuries...it may or may not remain one sided. Just so you know :)**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

"Seriously Tony, we did not have the weekend duty this week, and you did not go out? That seems unlike you." Ziva commented as the elevator stopped.

"I didn't feel like it." Tony caught the sceptical glance she gave him "Hey, stranger things have happened."

"Like what?"

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the squad room.

"Like Palmer getting a girlfriend... or McGee sitting at his desk like nothing happened."

Ziva followed Tony's line of sight and quickened her pace, smiling.

"McGee. You are back."

He grimaced. "Kinda. Light duties only, and only a few days a week yet."

"But you are still back, yes?"

He smiled at her. "Yeah, I'm back."

"So you get the easy stuff, and we do the field work" Tony commented. Ziva glanced sideways at him, unable to believe that he would deliberately make McGee feel guilty for being injured, and then caught the grin that accompanied his words. She knew that he was trying to mask how much he'd missed the fourth member of their team. Judging from the expression on McGee's face, he knew it too.

"DiNozzo, stop teasing McGee and grab your gear. We've got a dead sailor in Georgetown." Gibbs' mild rebuke came from behind them.

"Ah, Boss? I thought we were still working the Adams case?" Tony asked, looking slightly confused.

"The Director handed it over to JAG. Get moving."

...

McGee was a little surprised when Gibbs didn't immediately follow Tony and Ziva to the elevator. Instead he turned to McGee

"Ducky clear you?"

McGee nodded. "This morning, Boss."

Gibbs' rather rare smile crossed his face.

"Welcome back, Tim."

Then he turned and followed Tony and Ziva out of the squad room, leaving McGee at his desk.

McGee sat in shock for a moment. Gibbs had actually called him Tim. He could count the amount of times Gibbs had used his given name on the fingers of one hand. Shaking it off, he looked around for something to do, to occupy himself until they got back in from the field. Not finding anything particularly useful, he stood up and headed for the elevators as well. Maybe Abby could use his help.

...

Going back to work was supposed to help, McGee grumbled to himself. It was supposed to give him something to occupy his mind with other than his shoulder and his recovery. But three weeks after his return, it was having the opposite effect.

The first day hadn't been so bad. He'd watched the field team go out without any problems, distracted by the surprise of having Gibbs welcome him back the way he had. But after that... he'd watched the team leave with almost physical pain. He didn't understand it- he spent more time in the office than the rest of the team did usually anyway. He put it down to the fact that he couldn't go into the field. Normally when he was left behind, it was because what he was doing at headquarters was more valuable than his presence in the field. Now, it was simply because he had no value in the field.

On the second day, unable to sit in the empty bullpen and wait for them to return, he'd gone to the one place that always gave him at least a small amount of comfort- Abby's lab. Since then, it had become a routine. The team would leave and he'd retreat downstairs.

But being with Abby brought its own problems. He'd spent years keeping his feelings for the brilliant forensic scientist buried as deeply as he could, but somehow admitting them to Sarah had brought the repressed longings close to the surface. With them came the feelings of worthlessness that he tried his hardest not to dwell on. She was smart, and energetic, and warm hearted, and so beautiful that it made his breath catch. And he was...broken.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Sorry this chapter has taken so long- I've been struggling with writers' block on this one. I just couldn't seem to get this story to go where I wanted it to. Hopefully, I am at least partly back on track now. Thanks for your patience. F.**

Sarah noticed Tim's deepening depression with a sense of helplessness. He was her big brother, her protector, her mentor; normally when something went horribly wrong it was Tim that she turned to. With Tim being the problem she needed help with, she felt lost. She knew one person that could help him- Tim's words as he told her why he wouldn't tell Abby how he felt were indelibly imprinted on her memory, along with the heartrending look he'd worn. But without knowing how Abby felt about her brother, she was reluctant to kick that particular hornet's nest.

So who did that leave? Her parents were worried enough about Tim as it was without adding to it. Tony? From everything Tim had told her- and from what she'd read in his books- Tony seemed like a bit of a playboy. He'd probably take Tim out and do his best to find him a woman. But that sort of casual...thing wasn't what her big brother needed. He needed someone that actually cared about him, not some bimbo. Ducky, or Gibbs? The two older men would be sympathetic, she was pretty sure, but that wasn't much help either.

The only thing she could do was wait.

...

The only thing that gave McGee any peace was his physiotherapy. At least here, he felt like he was accomplishing something. Maybe not every day, or even every week, but slowly his range of movement was improving. The little things that had irked him so much were becoming easier; simple, everyday things like being able to reach a high shelf took on so much more meaning when you'd been unable to do them for a long period of time. He set himself goals, things he wanted to achieve along the way. Returning to the field was his highest priority, but he knew there'd be many other high points. And low points.

Late one night, when he couldn't sleep, he went downstairs to his designated spot in the parking lot for his building. He pulled the cover off his Porsche- without a twinge from his shoulder, he noted- and looked at it wistfully. He missed his car. Abby came and drove it occasionally, to keep it running, and usually he went with her. But there was a big difference between being a passenger in his car, and driving the sleek silver bullet. It was one thing that all of the members of Gibbs' team shared- a love of fast, powerful cars. Tony was more overt about it, but it amused McGee that they all drove something a bit more flamboyant than their usual work sedan as their personal vehicle.

Unable to resist the temptation, he unlocked the car and slid into the drivers' seat. "Just once" he told himself. "Just once, around the block."

He started the engine and shifted the car into gear cautiously, waiting for the now-familiar protest from his shoulder. But none was forthcoming. Carefully, he manoeuvred the Porsche out of its slot and onto the street, changing up through the gears with a minimum of trouble. Gaining confidence, he accelerated, letting himself get lost in the thrill.

It wasn't until he'd pulled back into the parking lot and killed the engine that he realised he was both laughing and crying.


	35. Chapter 35

Driving the Porsche into work this time was even better than the first time, he decided as he turned the engine off. Even the hassle of having to get a new parking pass- his had expired- hadn't killed the buzz. Before, the thrill of driving the car had come from being in control of something that powerful and responsive. Now, the thrill was because driving his car felt like... like freedom.

He got out of the vehicle and went around to the passenger side to retrieve his pack. He didn't really know why he kept bringing his pack with him- it was his field pack, after all-but habits died hard.

"Nice car."

The unfamiliar female voice made him straighten up in a hurry, cracking his head on the roof of the low slung car. He turned to see a blonde stranger surveying him. His first impression was her height; or lack of it. She would barely come up to his shoulder. She was also undeniably attractive.

"Sorry; I didn't mean to startle you."

He resisted the urge to rub at the spot where he'd hit his head, unwilling to look like any more of a fool in front of a total stranger. "It's fine. And thanks."

"You must be Agent McGee, am I right?"

"How did you know that?"

"The guys downstairs." He must have looked as bewildered as he felt. She gave him a small smile before continuing. "I'm Agent Shelley Frost; I work down in Cybercrimes. The guys down there described your car to me. They're rather in awe of you. Seems like you're one of the few agents that doesn't treat them like freaks."

"How long have you worked in Cybercrimes?"  
"About 3 weeks now. Before that I was agent afloat on the _Bunker Hill_, out of-"

"San Diego" he finished. "I grew up in California." He grinned at her for a moment; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony's Mustang pulling into the lot. If Tony was in, he was close to being late. "I'd better go; it was good meeting you."

"Hopefully I'll catch you around."

He smiled at her again, catching her frankly admiring glance as he turned away. He knew that look. It surprised him that any woman could find him attractive; but the look had been unmistakeable. Today was shaping up to be a good day.

...

_A few weeks later..._

"I think we'll stop there today, Tim."

McGee let out the breath he'd been holding in a frustrated sigh. Today had not been a good day; for that matter, none of his physiotherapy session had been 'good days' for a while now.

"It's not getting any better, is it?" It was the question he'd been afraid to ask; now, he saw Steve, the physiotherapist, pause before responding and knew he had the answer he'd been dreading. "There's been no improvement for weeks."

"The word you want is plateau, Tim. There's a point with any injury as severe as yours where improvement seems to stop."

"So this is as good as it's going to get?"

"Maybe; maybe not. From now on, Tim, it's difficult to say. If you do get any more movement back from this point, it'll be slight."

...

He left the physiotherapist's office in a daze. He knew that his shoulder was better than he had any right to expect; but would it be good enough?

He got in his car and started it, pulling out of the lot without any destination in mind, and drove without conscious thought, his mind too busy going over the ramifications of the news he'd received.

"Your ID, sir?"

The voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Huh?"

"Your ID, sir." The MP was polite, but it was clear he was one step away from ordering McGee out of the car. He fumbled for the plastic card and showed it to the guard, then pulled into his accustomed parking space in the lot reserved for NCIS employees.

He didn't remember driving to the Yard; but now that he was here he may as well go in and see if the team needed his help with anything. They probably wouldn't-they were working yet another short case- but somehow he couldn't face the thought of going home right now.

They weren't in the bullpen. He sat down at his desk and pulled up the latest case file on his computer. Surely there was something he could do to distract himself. As he reached for a notepad to jot down some reminders to himself, an envelope addressed to him caught his eye. He ripped it open and drew out the single piece of paper it contained.

It seemed like some sort of cruel joke when he realised it was a notice to report to Ducky for his field agent physical.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: I know I keep saying I'm going to try and post on my stories more regularly, but... To let you all know exactly why I haven't been posting, here's what's been happening. Since August, we've moved 1600km for my work, had all of the stress and nonsense of moving, settling into a new town and a new job etc, and then to top it off, I found out at the end of October that I'm pregnant. We found out quite late- as I write this, I'm just over 6 months pregnant- so as you can imagine, we've kinda had to scramble to get everything together for the baby, and I've had a lot on my mind other than fanfic.**

**Before the baby is born I'm going to attempt to get all of my current stories finished without starting any new ones. Or at least not any multi-chapter new ones lol. So here we go, another chapter of Choices. After 36 chapters, I'm almost done... **

**Massive thanks goes to Trina109 for beta-ing this for me. Miss you Trina!  
**

He sat staring at the notice for a long time, his mind racing. He knew that this was coming, knew he couldn't stay on desk duty forever. But he also didn't think it would come so quickly on the heels of Steve's revelation that improvement in his mobility had pretty much ceased. There was something in that; he'd think about it later. The other thought that occupied him was the firearms test. He knew the physical was important, but either his shoulder would be flexible enough or it wouldn't; he'd already done all he could to change that.

The firearms test was something. He hadn't held a gun for months; he didn't own a firearm other than that issued to him by NCIS, and it had been collected by NCIS when he was injured- standard procedure. He knew that he could have gone to any number of firing ranges to practise, but his physiotherapist had advised against it; the recoil from even a small calibre pistol could have caused further damage to his shoulder while it was healing. So he hadn't gone, and now he had no real way to know whether or not he could still shoot. Shooting had always been his weak point; he'd turned out to be a good shot, but he'd had to work at it.

The noise of the elevator arriving jerked him out of his thoughts; quickly, he stuffed the notice into his desk drawer. He didn't really want to talk to the rest of the team about this, not yet. He forced himself to respond to Ziva's greeting as cheerfully as he was able, and joined in the discussion of the current case.

...

Later that evening, after work, he flicked through the local telephone directory on his phone, looking for a shooting range that was open late at night. He wanted one that was a little off the beaten track, unlikely to be frequented by anyone he knew, in case this went badly. He'd called down to Ducky in a quiet moment, scheduling his physical for the following day. Against his better judgement, he'd also phoned to the psych department and scheduled his psychological assessment.

Finding what he was looking for, he picked up his things and left the apartment.

...

Reaching the firing range in nearby Rockville, he signed in, showing the necessary ID and choosing a 9mm pistol that was similar to the SIG he carried at work. Not surprisingly, they didn't have the same model pistol that NCIS issued to its agents.

He took the gun down to the furthest stall, wanting to be as inconspicuous as possible. He loaded the weapon carefully, trying to get the feel of the unfamiliar gun. When he was ready, he faced down the range and raised the gun.

And couldn't raise it high enough.

His shoulder prevented him from raising the weapon any higher than belly height on the vaguely human shaped target. He knew he had to be able to make a shot at a minimum of chest height.

He tried again, and failed. Still too low. Forcing his shoulder as high as he could, he almost-almost-got it to the necessary height, but his arm trembled so much he knew he'd barely be able to pull the trigger, let alone take aim.

He tried again and again, every shot going too low, until finally his arm and hand hurt so much from the strain that he was unable to continue. Then he stood there, anger and betrayal rising in him. Why? Why had they let him hope when there was no way that he'd be able to rejoin the team? Why hadn't Steve let him know that his shoulder was as good as it was going to get? Particularly as he must have known for weeks, to be able to let NCIS know?

Finally the range attendant signalled to him, letting him know that they were about ready to close. Returning his rented weapon, he left and drove slowly home.

He only had one option left to him now.

He would have to leave NCIS.


	37. Chapter 37

He didn't sleep that night.

Granted, he didn't sleep much anyway- the nightmares had lessened, but never ceased completely- but he had way too much on his mind to sleep.

Now that he'd made the decision to leave NCIS, he had to give serious consideration to what, exactly, he was going to do with the rest of his life. It was something he'd never really had to think about before. He'd known from the time it had dawned on him that he wasn't destined to join the Navy what he'd wanted to do. NCIS was his dream job.

But there was one other thing that he'd proved he could do well. His second book had sold even better than the first one- a fact he kept carefully secret from the team. He knew he could do it. The question was, did he want to? Did he really want to spend the rest of his life living vicariously through books? And would he really be able to keep it up? Granted, his years on Gibbs' team had given him plenty of material, but that wasn't all he needed.

The morning brought him no closer to answers. Remembering his appointment with Ducky, he reluctantly got ready for work and left his apartment.

...

He was quieter than usual during the exam, answering Ducky's questions when he was asked, but not volunteering any information. His mind was elsewhere, and he didn't notice the unusually sharp looks directed at him by the elderly medical examiner.

He managed to pull himself together enough to feign enthusiasm when Ducky passed him as fit for field work. Once the paperwork was completed, he left the morgue, unaware of Ducky's gaze following him out the door.

...

After McGee had left, Ducky heaved a sigh and shook his head. Something was wrong with that young man, and he wasn't entirely certain what it was. For someone who'd put so much effort into being declared fit for duty again, he didn't react the way Ducky had expected.

A thought struck Ducky just as the automatic doors opened again, admitting Gibbs into the morgue.

"Ah, Jethro, I was just about to come in search of you."

"You've seen McGee."

"Yes, he just left."

Gibbs gave him the patented 'look', the one that made it perfectly clear that he was waiting for more of an explanation. When none was forthcoming, he pressed a little. "So what's the verdict, Duck? Is he fit for field work?"

"I cleared him physically, yes." Ducky hedged slightly.

"But?"

"I'm not certain about that young man's mental fitness just yet, Jethro."

"How so, Duck?"

"Oh come on Jethro, surely someone as observant as yourself has noticed the change in Timothy?" He waited for a moment. "Put simply, the very nature of his injury is isolating. He's been unable, up until recently, to do the things we take for granted. It made him feel useless, a burden. Being apart from the team so much hasn't helped matters at all. There is a distance between Timothy and the rest of the team, one that simply wasn't there before."

"We've all been here, Duck."  
"Have you really, Jethro? Think about it. What cases have you been working on for the past few months?"

He watched as Gibbs mentally reviewed their cases over the last little while, and caught the grimace that Gibbs tried to hide.

"They've all been short cases, mostly field work, am I correct?"

"Haven't had a big one in a while" Gibbs admitted.

"Field work is the one thing that Timothy has been completely unable to help with for several months now. With him spending so much time by himself, away from the team, is it so unusual that he would start to think of himself as separate from it?"

"McGee is a valued member of my team, Duck."

"Then I suggest you tell him so."

Gibbs nodded, and Ducky knew his advice had been taken on board.

"However, Jethro, I'm not sure that's the only thing on McGee's mind right now. When he left here just now, he didn't look as happy as I would have expected from someone who's tried so hard to get back into his position. Perhaps something else is bothering him as well."

"Probably nervous about his other tests, Duck."

"That is a possibility, of course." Ducky allowed. McGee's trepidation about any of the routine tests the field agents had to undertake, particularly polygraphs, was well known.

"Thanks, Duck."

Gibbs left Ducky alone, throwing his empty coffee cup into the bin on his way out.

...

McGee went up to the bullpen and left the paperwork that Ducky had given him on Gibbs' desk. He knew that Tony and Ziva were watching him as he went to his own desk and sat down; he avoided looking at them, knowing that they'd want to congratulate him; he didn't feel like dealing with anyone's congratulations right now.

Luckily for him, before the silence could get any more than just slightly awkward, Gibbs returned to the bullpen and took Tony and Ziva with him into the field. He gave them a few minutes to get clear of the building before he picked up the phone and cancelled his psychiatric evaluation.


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Ok, I know it's been like two months...sorry. I just flat haven't had the energy or the inspiration. But here's a short chapter. More soon, I promise.**

**As always, thanks goes to my wonderful beta, Trina109.**

He sat for a few minutes after he hung up the phone, reflecting on what he'd just done. Somehow it felt like the first, irrevocable step to leaving the agency, even though it wasn't, not really.

There was something he wanted to do before he left, something that he was sure they wouldn't let an ordinary citizen do. He stood and walked up the stairs to the mezzanine, knocking courteously on the Director's office door. He had to get this sorted put now, before Vance got word that he'd cancelled his psych test and put two and two together.

To his mild surprise, he was admitted close to straight away.

"Agent McGee. What can I do for you?"

"I want to see Sergeant Adams" McGee surprised himself by blurting out.

For a moment the ever-present toothpick in the corner of Vance's mouth stopped moving; the Director fixed him with a stare that was almost as penetrating as Gibbs'.

"Why?"

He couldn't really explain that, not even to himself. How could you explain that he'd almost been killed by someone he'd never seen, and somehow it made it ten times worse than if he'd looked them in the eye? He had no idea, really, of what went on in Adams' head. Even in his dreams, Adams figured more as an amorphous shape, unmistakably malignant but without form. It wasn't right. Everyone else that they'd put away, he'd seen them, and it had helped him understand why they'd done what they'd done. But not Adams.

"He's going to be executed, isn't he Director?"

"Possibly."

"Part of the reason for that is because of what he did to me." It was a statement, not a question.

"That's right."  
"He's the only person in the world that might be executed because of me. And I need to see." He cut himself off, knowing that his explanation hadn't made much in the way of sense and that his request would probably be denied.

But Vance surprised him. After a moment's unnerving staring, he tilted forward in his chair.

"Ok. I'll organise it with JAG."

McGee blinked in amazement. "Than-thank you sir" he stammered before he turned to leave.

"Don't let him get to you, McGee."

He nodded, not sure what to say, then opened the door and left.

...

JAG moved faster than he thought possible, with Commander Coleman calling him that afternoon to arrange meeting him at the Quantico brig early the next morning. He was obscurely glad that the team was still out in the field as he took the call, knowing he wouldn't be able to explain it adequately to Gibbs' satisfaction. As it was, he was forced to manufacture a check-up on his damaged shoulder to account for being missing for a sizeable portion of the next day- something he knew wouldn't sit well with Gibbs. But somehow, he didn't want the team to find out where he was going.


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: 3 chapters in 3 days... it's been a very long time since I managed to pull that off. I know my posting schedule has been erratic at best; bear with me as it's only going to get worse. As I post this, I'm 37 weeks pregnant and having pre-labour contractions...**

**Special thanks to Trina109, for beta-ing this. And for putting up with my massive gaps in writing. As always, you rock.**

Abby entered her lab at her usual start time to find a pile of evidence sitting on her stainless steel lab tables, waiting for her. She sighed. Either Gibbs' team had had a really early call out, or the evidence had been left there overnight- which meant that they were on yet another bread and butter case. It had been months since they'd given her evidence that was even remotely challenging. She shrugged into her lab coat as she walked through to the second part of her lab to deposit her lunchbox and fire up the computers.

She checked the evidence bags as she made her usual rounds, booting and checking her precious equipment. Making a face, she quickly realised it was yet another round of 'ordinary' evidence- straight forward fingerprinting, ballistics testing and identity matching. This kind of work was boring but necessary. Oh well, she reasoned, the quicker she got it done, the quicker Gibbs' team would solve their case and move on to the next one- which would hopefully, from her perspective, be a bit more interesting than this one appeared. She settled in to her work, breaking occasionally to refill her Caf-Pow from the dispenser.

It was on one of her trips upstairs to the vending machines that she heard McGee's name mentioned. After the attack on him, she'd often heard his name in conversations as she walked past, but the rather intense speculation about him had died down to the point where overhearing a conversation about him was unusual. Surreptitiously, she tried to see who was talking, reasoning that he was her best friend and she needed to know what was being said about him- so she could set the record straight if she needed to. She could only see part of one of the speakers... It looked to be one of the secretaries from Psych; Abby didn't know her name, having spent many years trying her best to avoid the people from the Psych department.

"He rang yesterday morning, to cancel his appointment."

"Really? But I thought all the agents had to clear a test before going back into the field!"

"That's just it, they do."

"So why would Agent McGee cancel his?"

"I have no idea..."

The voices of the two women faded away as they left the break room and headed down the hallway. Next to the Caf-Pow dispenser, Abby stood frozen. McGee had cancelled his psych evaluation? Why would he do that? He needed that to get back into the field. Was there something he wasn't telling her? She shook her head, forcing herself to move, to go back to her lab.

She sat back down at the ballistics computer, trying to make herself concentrate on her work. But her mind wasn't on what she was doing- it kept going back to what she'd overheard and the reasons why Timmy would have cancelled such an important appointment. Suddenly finding the ever-present music intensely irritating, she jumped up and snapped off the CD player and began pacing in front of her computers.

Timmy had passed his physical with no problems; she knew that. His shoulder wasn't 100%, it never would be, but Ducky said that the impairment wouldn't stop him. And she knew that he wanted to get back to field duties badly. Being an NCIS agent was his dream job.

So what had made him call off the appointment?

She was still pacing and worrying when Gibbs came into the lab carrying a Caf-Pow.

"Whatdya got for me, Abs?"

With a conscious effort, she pulled her mind back to the evidence, giving him her findings automatically. He nodded, but instead of giving her the Caf-Pow and leaving like she expected, he stood and looked at her for a moment.

"Something wrong, Abs?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Gibbs."

He gave her a disbelieving look.

"Ok... McGee cancelled his psych evaluation."

Gibbs paused. "He did what?"

"He cancelled his psych evaluation, Gibbs. One of the secretaries from up there was talking about it when I went to get a Caf-Pow and-"

She broke off as Gibbs, cursing softly, turned and left her lab abruptly.

...

Gibbs strode back into the bull pen and told Tony and Ziva Abby's findings, giving them orders as he tried calling McGee's cell phone. No answer. This late in the day, it was possible that he'd gone straight home after his appointment. Gibbs tried his landline as well, getting only McGee's recorded voice on the answering machine, telling him to leave a message.

Cursing again, he picked up his jacket and headed for the elevator.

...

McGee trudged tiredly up the corridor to his apartment. The interview with Sergeant Adams had been draining physically and emotionally, far more than he'd anticipated.

Unlocking the door, he shrugged out of his coat and hung it up. A voice behind him spoke.

"Abby says you cancelled your psych evaluation."

McGee whirled, his heart pounding. "B-boss. What are you doing here?" he stammered in his surprise.

Gibbs stood, walking forward until he was face to face with McGee.

"What's going on, McGee?"

McGee looked away, unable to meet the steely blue gaze.

"There didn't seem to be much point in doing it, Boss."

Gibbs just continued to look at him.

"I'm never going to be cleared fit for field work again." he went on sadly "I gotta move on."

Finally Gibbs spoke.

"What's stopping you from being declared fit?"

McGee stared at him as if he'd gone mad. Gesturing at his slightly misshapen shoulder and his scarred arm, he snapped "This!"

"Ducky said you passed your physical." Gibbs pointed out "So what's stopping you?"

McGee sighed, knowing that Gibbs wouldn't rest until he told him. "The firearms proficiency. I never was much of a shot and now... I went to the range last week and I can't lift my arm high enough for a good shot."

"So you're giving up?"

McGee flinched. Somehow it sounded so much worse coming from this man.

"What else can I do, Boss? I can't pass the range testing!"

Gibbs shook his head "Look, McGee, you can either sit here and feel sorry for yourself, or you can do something about it."

Abruptly he opened the door and left.

McGee sunk down onto the couch, pondering Gibbs' words. Was he really just feeling sorry for himself? He'd spent months in physiotherapy to get his arm as good as what it was; he'd defied everyone's expectations, recovering more movement than the doctors had anticipated. When he'd been unable to make a decent shot, how had he given up on his goal of making it back into the field?

He forced himself to admit that yes, he was feeling sorry for himself. Gibbs obviously thought there was some way he could pass the proficiency test, even without being able to lift his arm to aim at chest height. But how? He was no firearms expert. He knew someone that was, however. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial.

"Ziva? It's McGee. I need your help..."


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: Bet you thought I'd abandoned my stories... I haven't, but as I'm sure every parent out there knows, a 6 month old plus work doesn't leave a lot of time for anything else**

**Thanks, as always, to my lovely beta Trina109**

McGee stumbled into his bedroom and collapsed wearily onto the bed. Ziva was the hardest taskmaster he'd ever encountered, he decided. His back ached, his head ached, his ears were ringing despite the ear protection they'd worn- but it was nothing compared to the dull throbbing pain in his shoulder.

Years of Mossad training had given Ziva a knowledge of how to shoot guns in some of the craziest positions, McGee had discovered, and she could do it with deadly accuracy. It had left McGee with a sense of awe, tinged with a little fear. She was even deadlier than any of them had ever imagined. He wasn't sure he could even get into some of the positions she did, let alone still be able to fire.

But her knowledge was serving McGee well. Today had been their fourth lesson in as many days. He wasn't sure exactly how Gibbs was managing to get the time off for Ziva, but he was thankful for it. They'd experimented with different stances, going from the two handed Weaver stance he preferred to a one handed stance when they'd discovered that those were the two he was most accurate with- most accurate being a relative term. He had a long way to go before he'd pass his firearms proficiency test. The strangest and most difficult thing for him was adjusting to using his right hand as his dominant hand. It felt quite weird; like he was trying to do things in reverse.

Sighing, he let himself relax, knowing if he did he'd fall asleep quickly. A faint noise caught his attention, making him open his eyes. Jethro was sitting next to the bed, watching him hopefully. Rousing himself, he got up to feed his dog.

...

Gibbs gave no sign that he was aware of the slight creaking of his basement stairs as Ziva made her way down the steps. After a few more long, smooth strokes of the sanding pad on the boat that was his current project, he spoke.

"How's he doing?"

"Well. Better than I expected." He heard the reservation in her voice and looked up.

"But?"

"Gibbs, don't you think we are asking too much of McGee? It is only a few months since he was injured." She stood up from her seat on the steps and paced towards him. "He is pushing himself... very hard. I worry... that he is going to hurt himself. And for what? So that he does not fail you?"

"Nope. So that he doesn't fail himself."


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: Are you still with me?**

**Thank you all for your incredible amount of patience with my ridiculously slow posting. However, I am pleased to announce that this is NO LONGER A WORK IN PROGRESS! Woohoo! I actually finished it!**

**No, this is not the final chapter- the last few chapters are with my lovely beta-reader, Trina109, right now. I'll post one a day until it's done. F.**

When McGee arrived at work on the sixth day of Ziva's firearms training, the first thing he saw was DiNozzo peering around the corner of the partitions, looking towards the elevators. When he spotted McGee, he quickly moved away and pretended huge interest in the file on his desk. McGee slowed. It was obvious that Tony had been watching for him. He eyed DiNozzo suspiciously. Usually when Tony acted this way, he'd either been caught out snooping into something he shouldn't have, or he was in the middle of playing a prank on someone. He glanced across to Ziva's desk; she wouldn't meet his eyes either. What was going on?

He stopped in the middle of the bullpen.

"What?"

"Well, good morning to you too, Probie. I'm fine thanks, how about you?"

McGee ignored Tony's attempt to distract him.

"Tony."

"Fine, McHumourless. Commander Coleman dropped by looking for you. You know, from JAG? She said that the Adams case was coming up..." Tony must've caught the look on McGee's face as he trailed off lamely "anyway, she left this for you." He handed McGee a legal-sized envelope.

Taking it, McGee dumped his pack behind his desk and sat down heavily. He knew the envelope could only contain materials for Adams' court martial, and he really wasn't sure he wanted to open it. Better to get it over with, he told himself and started to peel back the flap. He looked up to see both Tony and Ziva were watching him. Tony opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the entrance of Gibbs.

"Grab your gear. We've got a dead marine downtown."

McGee waited until the flurry of activity had ceased and the elevator doors had closed behind his teammates before opening the envelope fully and removing the papers it contained. They were upside down. He eyed them as if he would a rattlesnake before turning them over. There was the usual legal speak, the date set for the beginning of Adams' court-martial, and a request...

"A Victim's Impact Statement?" he wondered out loud. He'd heard of them, but they weren't widely used, especially in military courts martial. His heart sank. They wanted him to put it all down on paper? To be read out in court, in front of everybody? Suddenly he felt like everyone was watching him. He needed someplace quiet to think about this. He picked up the papers and headed for the elevator.

...

Abby walked into her lab later than her usual start time. She'd had a few things she had to do before work, and they'd taken longer than expected. Quickly she flicked the lights on in the main part of the lab and started powering up her machines. Once she was satisfied that they were all in their start up routines, she went through to the section of the lab that served as her office.

An unusual scraping noise made her turn. McGee was getting up from where he'd sitting on the floor.

"McGee! What're you doing in here?" As her heart rate returned to normal- he had really startled her- she took a moment to survey him. He was looking tired, and worried, she decided. He'd been looking better lately, but something was bothering him today.

"Hey Abby. I was just...thinking."

"Oh. Okay." This wasn't unusual; he'd spent a lot of time in her lab since he was injured. Knowing that he'd tell her what he was thinking eventually, she turned her attention back to getting everything set up for the day.

"JAG has set the date for Adams' court martial."

She stopped and looked at McGee. "That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah."

She waited a moment, in case he wanted to say something else, then started sorting through her emails.

"Have you ever heard of a victim impact statement?"

She thought for a moment. "I've heard of them. That's where the victims write about how the crime affected their lives, right?"

He nodded. "They want me to do one."

From his tone, she could tell he wasn't sold on the idea. "And you don't want to."

"If it was just a private thing, maybe I would. But Abby, they read these things out in court. I don't want to sit there while they talk about how screwed up I am."

He started pacing. Abby could see how agitated, how upset he was, and she was surprised. He'd been fairly calm throughout this whole ordeal, apart from when she'd caught him having nightmares. It had worried her, how accepting he'd been. Accepting, and sad. This was more like the Tim McGee she knew.

"I don't want their- their pity. And I don't want to see them look at me and- and turn away. Everyone always turns away. Even Sar- even my sister."

"I didn't" she reminded him softly.

The smile he gave her was grateful and tinged with sadness. "I know, Abs."

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You've got to."

He shook his head again. "No, it's a voluntary thing."

"I don't mean for the court martial, Tim. You've gotta do this for you. If you let Adams do this, if you let him destroy you, then he wins. He gets what he wants."

"Sometimes I think he already has, Abs. I'm not the same person I was 6 months ago."

She went over and hugged him. "I know, McGee." And she did know. Something of the innocence that had so characterised McGee even after 8 years of working the worst cases NCIS could throw at them had been lost. What was left was a much harder person, at least on the surface. Up until now she hadn't realised exactly how much hurt was bubbling underneath that surface. Her heart bled for her best friend.

"And that's why you've gotta do this. You've got to show him that he didn't win."

...

McGee was almost stumbling with weariness when he let himself into his apartment that night. After they'd finished work for the day, Ziva had dragged him off for another session at the firing range. He'd decided the firearms training was almost as good as a workout; at least the way Ziva did it. He wanted nothing more than to take his dog out, then crawl into bed and get some sleep.

But he couldn't; he'd promised Abby. She was persistent, he had to give her that. She had a way of talking people into doing what she wanted them to do that was practically impossible to resist. He thought about skipping it, at least for tonight, but he knew full well she'd know. Somehow she always did.

He took Jethro out for a quick jog and then showered. With one longing look at his bed, he settled himself at his desk and began to write.

'_My name is Timothy McGee, and I'm an NCIS special agent. For the last 8 years, I've been part of the Major Case Response Team based at the Navy Yard. Being an NCIS field agent is my dream job. And now I may lose it because of Sergeant Adams' actions...'_


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: Thank you to everyone that took the time to read the previous chapter! I know it was a long time coming. This story has ended up at 45 chapters, so just a few more to go!**

**Thanks to Trina109, as always. **

Abby had barely seen McGee since she extracted a promise to write the victim's impact statement from him. He'd drop by occasionally and leave parts of it behind for her to read, almost without comment. She knew he wasn't giving her all of it, and she wasn't sure to be pleased about that or not. As it was, the pieces he left for her were often desperately, heartrendingly sad. She wasn't often moved to tears, but she'd been in floods when she'd read his account of Sarah's reaction to his injuries, and again when he wrote of his attempts to fire his gun and his belief that he would have to leave NCIS. She'd given up reading them at work; instead she took them home and read them in private, where there was no chance of other people finding them.

She felt guilty that she hadn't seen how badly Timmy had been affected by what Adams had done. She'd known he was depressed, known he'd been having nightmares, but she hadn't seen... any more than he wanted her to see, she guessed. He could be a strange mix of the transparent and the secretive. She knew the deadline for submitting his statement was approaching, but he'd refused to give her a specific date, she guessed it was so she wouldn't pester him to make sure it was done.

She came back from lunch a few weeks before the trial to find he'd been there in her absence. As he usually did, he'd left a neat pile of paper face down on her desk. This time there was a sticky note attached the top. It read simply 'Thanks.' She pulled it off and smiled. She knew he hadn't wanted to write the statement, and she understood. She also knew he had to in order to recover. The note meant that he realised it now too.

She picked the paper up to slide it into her bag for later, and then stopped. It was only one page. She looked around. As far as she knew, the team was out in the field. If Tim had dropped by and left this one sheet, he probably wouldn't be back again today. She'd read it and put it away. No one would see it.

She sat down at her desk and flipped the page over.

'_As I write this, I am in the process of going through the re-training and testing needed to regain my position as field agent. I think- I hope- I have come to terms with the fact that I am permanently disabled, and that I will forever need to make allowances for my reduced capabilities. It has taken many months, and the belief and support of my family and friends, to come to this point. It was through their friendship that I retained my arm at all, and I truly believe that they have saved my life...'_

There was only one paragraph, but by the end Abby had tears in her eyes. The note he had left her meant more than she'd realised.

...

McGee whistled to himself as he walked across the parking lot to his car. He was in two minds about letting Abby see the page of his statement that alluded to the darkest days of his recovery, but he felt like he owed it to her. She had known he wouldn't adjust to the loss of an arm; he had to repay her somehow for that.

Today, however, nothing was going to bust his bubble. Last week, Ziva had finally declared him ready to face his firearms proficiency test. He had asked her not to tell anyone, wanting to be able to face the test without knowing people were waiting impatiently to hear how he'd gone. He'd asked Gibbs for the afternoon off for 'personal reasons'.

So now he was heading to the range. He wasn't as nervous as he thought he would be; nowhere near as nervous as he was the first time he'd faced this test. He'd enlisted the services of the strictest testing officer he could possibly find, calling in several favours to do so. He didn't want any possible rumours of favouritism marring the result. He felt his anxiety rise as he was passed onto the Academy grounds and found the range.

Navy Captain William Clark was waiting for him. Clark was the Commandant of the United States Naval Academy. They didn't come tougher than that.


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N: The weird thing about coming back to writing after being gone so long is I'm actually not having problems with writers block. I wrote chapters 41-45 of this story in around 2 days. When you consider that I also worked and looked after my now 10 month old daughter, I think I did ok lol. I'm also back to working on my other WIPs, so keep an eye out. F. **

He felt like he was walking on air.

He'd done it.

He'd waited until he'd made it to his car to allow himself more than a small smile and a 'Thank you, sir', but now that he was there he could let himself go a little more.

Grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket, he called Headquarters and asked to be put through to the Psych department. He took the first available appointment for his evaluation, registering as he did so that the evaluation would end the week before Adams' court martial began. He went to make another call and stopped, his finger hovering over the touch screen. Changing his mind, he put the Porsche in gear and headed back to the Yard. Some news was better delivered in person.

...

The team's cars were still in their customary places in the parking lot, Abby's included. Good. He wanted to be able to tell them all. He went first to the lab, finding it in darkness. Where was Abby? Shrugging his good shoulder- it was one movement he couldn't get out of his bad side, no matter how much he tried- he headed upstairs to the bullpen.

Abby was perched on the edge of his desk, talking to the rest of his team. It was obvious that they'd been discussing the trial; pictures of the crater in the Yard were displayed on the plasma. He ignored them, rushing into the middle of the discussion, not caring that he was interrupting Tony.

"Boss, Boss, I did it!" He waved the papers that Captain Clark had given him.

"Did what, McGee?" Gibbs sounded slightly exasperated at his interruption.

"I passed the firearms test. Here." He handed Gibbs the paperwork just as Abby collided with him in one of her trademark Abby-hugs. As the breath was crushed out of him he was dimly aware of Gibbs unfolding the papers and inspecting them through his reading glasses.

"Abs. Abs, can't breathe..."

"Oops, sorry Timmy." She let him go but stayed close by, as if she'd hug him again at any moment. He looked around for Ziva, who was standing behind her desk looking proud and happy.

"Thanks, Ziva. I couldn't have done it without you."  
"You do not need to thank me, McGee. You would have done the same for me."

He nodded, saying that his instruction wouldn't have been as effective.

"This is good work, McGee." Gibbs added with his rather rare smile.

"Thanks Boss."

"So, when's the psych test?" Tony wanted to know.

"Starts Monday of next week. I made the appointment before I drove over here."

"But that means it ends..."

"The Friday before Adams' court martial." He finished for Abby. "I know."

"That doesn't give you much time, McGee."

"To prepare for the trial, Tony? I didn't really work the case. All they want me to do is go up and show how much movement I've lost. I don't need to prepare for that. That's just...normal for me now." He knew his words had become a little bitter as he spoke. Taking a deep breath, he continued "The psych evaluation is more important. I need to get my life back. If I let him take that, then he's won." He smiled at Abby as he said it, knowing she'd understand. She hugged him again, and then stepped back.

"We need to celebrate."

He shook his head. "No."

"But McGee, this is really important!"

"No, Abs. When I get my badge back, then we can celebrate."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

...

Time seemed to be doing strange things. Monday had seemed so far away, and then all of a sudden it was Sunday before he knew it.

McGee was nervous about the psych evaluation. Though he'd said in his statement that he'd come to terms with his injuries, he knew that there was a part of him that was still bitter about what he'd lost. And he wasn't certain that the bitterness would ever go away. He'd gone to work a normal, fit, healthy man and come home with a permanent disability and an uncertain future. Surely a small amount of bitterness was normal? And he knew that there were some aspects of his changed life that he was still having trouble dealing with. Everyone had problems; surely his weren't enough to keep him out of the field?

He'd spent the week catching up on any computer issues that the team was having with their current case, tying up any loose ends on their last case, and just generally getting things in order so that the team wouldn't need anything from him while he was undergoing evaluation. It was routine, slightly tedious work but it kept him occupied and stopped him from dwelling on the next couple of weeks. Mostly.

Sunday night found him unable to sleep. He tossed and turned and finally fell into a light doze; which was broken by one of his recurring nightmares.

"Why today, Jethro?" he asked his dog, not really expecting an answer. "Today, of all days." He really didn't need the unsettled feeling that the nightmares always left him with. He looked at the clock, decided against trying to get back to sleep, and started getting ready for the day.

...

He was early to his appointment. Dr Talbot's receptionist let the doctor know he was there, then went back to her work. A few minutes later the doctor's office door opened and the doctor herself came out to greet him.

"Agent McGee?"

He nodded and stood to shake her outstretched hand.

"I'm Dr Talbot. I've been expecting you. Are you ready?"

He took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'm ready."


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N: Almost there! Thanks, as always, to my awesome beta and friend, Trina109**

"I don't know how he does it. Even that hot new Cybercrimes agent dropped by to wish him luck. Nobody wishes me luck- " Tony grumbled.

'What 'hot new Cybercrimes agent'?" Sarah asked.

"Agent Frost- she just transferred in from California. Man I love California babes. Anyway, this one's got a thing for the McGeek. Speaking of McGee, has anyone even seen him this week?"

Ziva and Sarah both shrugged.

"I saw him last night" Abby volunteered. "I dropped by his place to see how his psych testing went."

Tony gave her a speculative look.

"Stop it, Tony. It's not weird; McGee's my best friend. You know that." Abby protested.

"For a guy that was so convinced that no woman would ever want him, he seems to get a lot of female visitors" Sarah commented.

Abby turned to look at Sarah. "He said that?"

She nodded. "A few months ago, just before he went back to work. I thought you knew."

"I can't believe he said that."

"Can't believe who said what?" Tim's voice came from behind the little group.

"Uh... Adams. We were talking about his confession." Tony tried to cover the awkward moment.

McGee gave him a knowing look. "You're a horrible liar, Tony."

Just then the courtroom doors opened, and MPs started ushering people inside. Tony was quick to move to the front of the group, neatly avoiding McGee's questioning. "Saved by the... horn?" Ziva commented.

"The bell, Ziva. Saved by the bell."

Abby was the last to start moving towards the open doors. Shaking her head, she said to herself

"Why would he say that?"

...

The sound of a few hundred people trying to take their seats filled the courtroom. McGee fidgeted a little; he was due to be called as a witness today, the first day, and he wasn't looking forward to having to get up in front of a packed courtroom.

"So. What's going on with you and Agent Frost?"

He looked at Abby, seated beside him. "Um, nothing... we've spoken a couple of times. That's it."

"Are you going to ask her out?"

"What? No."

"Why not? Tony says she got a thing for you."

"I don't want pity, Abs."

She shifted a little in her seat. "I don't think you have to worry about that. I doubt that's her motivation, Timmy."

Something about her tone was... odd. Suspiciously, he asked "Have you been talking to my sister?"

"No..."

He didn't believe her.

"Abby."

She rolled her eyes. "Ok, fine. She said that you were worried. You know. About women."

He remembered that conversation vividly. Incipient panic seized him.

"What else did she tell you?"

"Nothing; that's when you walked up."

He could feel how red his face was. She looked at him sideways. "Quit worrying so much, McGee."

He was saved the necessity of answering by the entrance of the judge. He let his mind wander during the opening remarks. He'd been in two minds about including that aspect of his life in his impact statement. He'd included it, then cut it so many times. It was one thing to admit something like that to your sister, but to the entire world? He'd finally left it out, and hoped that Sarah would never tell anyone that her big brother was so insecure about his personal future. Now, it seemed she'd told his closest friends. He was just glad he'd interrupted them before she could blurt out how he felt about Abby. He gulped. That would be worse than just embarrassing.

After the usual call to order, the judge began.

"Sergeant Samuel James Adams, you have been charged with murder, terrorism, grievous bodily harm, assault on a federal agent, fraud, using a carriage service to unlawfully obtain classified documents..." The list went on. From where he was seated, McGee could see Sarah's eyebrows climbing as the charges were read. He couldn't remember hearing such a long list of charges before, at least not in any case he'd been involved in. They were determined to throw the book at this guy.

And he- and his team- were determined to make sure it happened. He settled in to watch.

...

When they recessed for lunch, the team met at a nearby cafe and were quickly joined by McGee's family. The cafe staff pushed two tables together to accommodate the large group. Sitting in the middle of one side, McGee could hear snatches of conversation all around him.

On one side, Tony and Ducky were educating his sister about the Uniform Code of Military Justice. "I don't get it" Sarah announced. "He's guilty, right? He freely admits it. So why not plead guilty, skip the trial and just go to sentencing?"

"He can't. Military law is a bit different. There's no such thing as a guilty plea in a court martial. Everyone has to go through the full trial."

"But why? Why not treat them the same as anybody else?"

"Because, dear girl, our military personnel are supposed to be held to a higher standard..."

His parents were talking to Gibbs; his dad and Gibbs had somehow managed to find some common ground, despite the disparity in age and background. Every so often he'd hear the tail end of a story that made him wince, usually involving something from Tim's childhood. He guessed he was lucky it was Gibbs they were talking to, and not Tony; although from the look on Ziva's face, she was storing up some of the best to use as ammunition later.

Beside him, under the cover of all the conversations going on around him, Abby asked "Do they read your statement today, McGee?"

He shook his head, grateful for her discretion; he hadn't told anyone else about the statement, afraid that they'd want to read it. Or worse, think badly of him for what it contained.

"Not until sentencing, Abs. I'll get called as a witness later, probably tomorrow after you guys. I think they want to get the serious charges over with first."

"McGee. Grievous bodily harm is serious."

"Not as serious as murder and terrorism, Abs."

She nodded. In one of her lightning quick changes of subject, she asked "Why are you so worried about women?"

Inwardly he damned his little sister. "Ah, well, um, because of this." He gestured to his misshapen shoulder. "I never really had a good track record with women anyway, and now... Well, what do I have to offer? A permanent disability and the possibility that I won't have a steady job?"

"McGee. Don't you dare sell yourself short like that. You've got a lot more than that. All the rest is window dressing. And you'll get your badge back." She grinned. "Besides, there's someone out there for everyone. Even Palmer."

He had to laugh at that. Palmer getting a girlfriend had been quite a shock to everyone.

All too soon, the lunch break was up and they returned to the courtroom.

...

McGee was determined to sit through as much of the trial as he could. The team had been given the week off active duty due to the necessity of testifying, so he could watch without feeling guilty about work piling up back at the Yard.

So he was there when Abby testified, walking the 3 member jury panel through the forensics. And when Keating described the destruction of Adams' house. It galled McGee that Keating could sound so blasé about nearly killing his team member, but he accepted that Tony wouldn't have been allowed to testify about that blast; he'd never gotten a good look at the tripwire, after all.

However, Tony did testify about the explosion at the Navy Yard. His description of the race to save hundreds of innocent people from the massive bomb, and its aftermath, was so harrowing that many people left the courtroom.

He was there when Adams' lawyers tried to use an insanity defence. He listened to their words with rage boiling inside of him, and hoped that the jury panel felt the same way he did.

He was there when the case was finally, after 4 and a half days of testimony, handed to the jury. The moment the judge recessed the trial, he called the rest of the team, they'd been there with him most days; the defence had rested earlier than expected and taken them all by surprise.

So he was there with his team and his family when Adams was found guilty. He had the support of Abby on one side and his sister on the other when his victim's impact statement was read out in court. And he was there when Adams was sentenced to death.

It was over.

...

After everyone had left the courtroom, McGee remained. It was over. He should feel relieved, ecstatic, anything.

Instead he just felt terribly drained.

A man was going to die because of him. 'No' he corrected himself fiercely 'not because of me. But because of what he did to me, and to other people.'

It was hard to concentrate on the other people that had suffered because of Samuel Adams when so much had changed in his own life. He'd never be the same person he was 6 months before. He now had to live with the scars, both inside and out.

He'd just about come to terms with it. And maybe, one day, he'd even find the courage to sit down and tell Abby exactly why he wouldn't ask Agent Frost out.

Now there was just one thing missing.


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: Ok, here it is- the final chapter of Choices. I want to thank you all for continuing to read this despite massive gaps in posting. And thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review; I loved getting every one of them. **

**I've had two betas along the way; thanks goes to both of you, especially to Trina109 who stuck with me and encouraged me right to the very end. Trina took time out of a sometimes incredibly busy schedule to read through chapters for me. Don't think I could've finished this without you Trina! **

After all the excitement of Adams' trial, things felt like they'd changed at NCIS headquarters. It was if a massive weight had lifted off the Agency. Business still continued as usual, but there was a sense of closure.

Except for McGee.

Two weeks had passed since Adams was found guilty, and the results of McGee's psychological evaluation still hadn't been released.

He'd taken to haunting Abby's lab again. Every field call just brought it home that he was so close and yet so far. He honestly thought it was worse now than it was in the beginning. Finally even she rounded on him.

"McGee. If you ask me one more time if I think there's a problem with your psych evaluation, I am going to go crazy!"

The irony of what she'd said caught her, and she giggled. She could see by the hurt expression on McGee's face that he hadn't gotten the joke. "Sorry McGee. But seriously, they will release it when they're ready. Now, can you give me a hand with this code? There's something hinky going on."

...

McGee sighed as he checked his emails. He didn't actually know how he'd be notified of his reinstatement- or rejection, as the case may be. But that didn't stop him checking his emails and anticipating the intra agency mail cart every day.

Yet again, there was nothing. How long was this going to take?

He caught the sympathetic glance Ziva gave him. She really did understand; it had taken weeks after Somalia to pass her in as fit, even excluding the extra time it had taken to get her US citizenship. He slung his pack under his desk and got out the cold case file he'd been working on yesterday.

Gibbs entering the bullpen brought everyone's heads up, as usual.

"Ziva, get Ducky. Tony, gas the truck." Gibbs tossed Tony the keys as he spoke.

The team scrambled. McGee watched sadly. He'd really hoped that his psych evaluation would've come back by now; and that it was positive. To get so far and then be knocked back at the last would be too cruel for words.

"Where're we going, Boss?"

"Shenandoah; got a report of a missing Navy officer."

"Is it just us, Boss? I mean, Shenandoah is huge..."

"He won't have gone far, Tony. They've already found his leg."

"That's disturbing, Boss."

"Yeah, it is Tony. McGee!"

"Yeah Boss?" McGee looked up to see Gibbs standing over his desk.

"Congratulations, McGee. You've earned this twice."

He couldn't believe it. Gibbs was handing him something bright, shiny gold- his badge. He felt like crying. Tony and Ziva were watching him, smiling. He ran his thumb over the raised surface, grinning. He'd made it.

"Hey McGee! Are you waiting on an invitation? We need you in the field."

He looked up again to see Gibbs holding the elevator. Still grinning, he slung his pack over his shoulder and grabbed his weapon.

"On it, Boss!"


End file.
